Monday, like the rest of America, I listened on the radio and read on the internet in shock and disbelief at reports and images of the shootings at Virginia Tech. But when I arrived home and was confronted by the information that someone I knew was among the missing, the evening took on a truly surreal quality. For me, it was, as they say, like déjà vu all over again.
I had had the same experience several years ago on 9/11. Then, I sat with students and colleagues during the day and watched with horror at the events that were unfolding. But when I arrived home, I learned that a family member had been in the World Trade Center that fateful morning and was still missing. For days we held out hope as a few fortunate survivors were pulled from the rubble. But as days and then weeks passed, we came to accept that the unthinkable had indeed occurred.
Having experienced it twice now, I can attest that when the 24-hour news blitz has immediate and personal meaning, the experience is unnerving. When a loved one is among 2,792 victims or “the 33 confirmed dead”, the evening news is no longer just the evening news.
I wish I could say that this time around, we received better news, but by the end of the night, our worst fears were realized. Reema was dead.