On Thursday, April 19th, I went to Blacksburg, VA after 48 hours of deep grieving with the intent of putting my NVC skills to work with the students and staff who were witnesses to the tragedy but whose shock, fear, and grief might not be getting addressed since they were not "family." Several factors converged Wednesday night that put my worries and self-doubts to rest: a meeting for Thursday night was rescheduled, adequate financial resources became available, the activist community started publishing heart-felt reactions instead of self-serving rhetoric, a friend in Floyd, VA connected me with his contact in Blacksburg, and friends and family went out of their way to assure me that I was strong enough, skilled enough, clear enough in my intent, and compassionate enough in my purpose.

I prepared myself and left around 9:00a.m., and that wonderful, dreamlike feeling of “flow” carried me enclosed in its sacred bubble of safety and support through the day and night. The trip even healed some guilt I didn’t even know I was carrying about the fact that I didn’t go to New Orleans after Katrina. The trip back was treacherous with dusk and rain and too many cars and big trucks going too fast, but the rain let up about 30 miles short of my exit, and the mountains were wearing the clouds in the evening sun – a sight well worth the stress of driving in the storm.

On the way to Blacksburg, I briefed myself by tuning in to NPR for 30 minutes of a panel discussion Q&A with authorities such as the Chief of Police, someone from the FBI, a Dean of Students, a Postmaster General, and perhaps some others. I'm not sure if the audience was students or media. The authorities fielded some tough questions, like why was Cho admitted with his psychiatric history, how was he able to obtain guns, what steps did VA Tech take in response to complaints about his behavior, etc. Their answers were full of compassion for everyone: the deceased and their families, VA Tech students and staff, the people they were addressing both in the room and in the listening audience, and yes, even Cho and his family. After all, it was too early to make definitive statements, and they were urging and modeling a calm and forgiving attitude.

The campus was like a ghost town with acres of empty parking lots since everyone had been sent home until Monday except a skeleton crew and the inevitable media circus - and I do mean circus! There were huge tents and motor homes and sky-cam poles and satellite dishes all clustered together beyond the dormitories near the Alumni Building. But what I didn't see was police barricades and armed guards, suspiciousness and hostility, fear and despair. I was relieved and greatly heartened.

Immediate needs seemed to be met, so I continued into Blacksburg itself where I did not see a ghost town. I saw young people on street corners wearing VA Tech sweatshirts and talking in small groups or taking care of their everyday lives. I saw a town alive but in mourning with yellow ribbons on the doors of homes and businesses - In Loving Memory - and flags at half mast. I saw Hokie colors in several contexts. I saw what I hadn't dared to hope - acceptance and peace - and felt connected to these strangers with whom we all share a loss.