Ryan Clark

[Edited to add a link to my friend Mike's thoughtful post. I haven't seen Mike in entirely too long. I should do something about that.]

I agree with Jon Stewart (please see the Quote of the Week to the left for his words at the begining of today's Daily Show), but please humor this post and my desire to write out some thoughts. This might seem strange (and admittedly speaks of a bit of self-centeredness), but when the first details about the terrible shootings at Virginia Tech were coming through, I instinctively thought to myself, "I bet one of the victims was the RA." I had that thought when I first read that the initial shootings occurred in a residence hall. In that moment I couldn't help think of Carmichael Hall, my dorm for three years, the latter two as the first floor Resident Assistant. I pictured my room and Carmichael's hallways so vividly. When they released more details and it was confirmed that only two of the many deaths occurred at the residence hall, I was sure one of the two had to be the RA.

I rarely dislike saying this, but it turns out that I was right. The Times has a short article on the first victim confirmed, apparently the second person killed: Ryan Clark. A student resident adviser at the West Ambler Johnston Hall dormitory, he was apparently investigating the commotion in his hall when he chanced upon the gunman. He was a senior majoring in biology and English and was a member of the marching band. His death was not reported to the press by the authorities but, instead, by students and a county coroner after his family had been notified. Of the thirty-three people who lost their lives today, he was the first to be matched with a name.

And it really struck me. Partly because he was, as I feared, a RA, but also because he wasn't just a death. He was a person, and it was the first time in a while that a person had died. That sounds strange, I know. Living in an urban area and with Iraq holding court on page three of most of our newspapers, I do notice a lot death. But the truth is that I rarely, if ever, let myself notice the person. Perhaps I'm desensitized or maybe I'm just tired of being sad, but the death that goes on in our world can be numbing. Most days, I don't read the inevitable, "35 Dead in Iraqi Market Bombing" or "3 U.S. Marines Killed in Roadside Attack" stories. I see those headlines (as I've already mentioned, rarely on page 1 anymore), pause a sec to register them, but then I move on to something else. Anything else.

Tonight, death gained a name. It became personified. Not personal, thankfully, at least not for me, but it came closer than it's come in a long time. I spent most of the day jumping from CNN to the Times to the BBC, feeling sadder and sadder as the day progressed. I was right there with the press conference journalists who reportedly gasped when told the death toll. And yet, while it was tragic that 33 people died to day, there's something almost unbearable about the death of Ryan Clark. I know little more than the facts I mentioned above but, right now, all I can think of is that Ryan Clark -- nicknamed "Stack" -- woke up this morning but won't be waking up tomorrow.

Entirely too many tomorrows have been disappearing in our world lately. And now 33 more over the span of just a few hours at a college campus not too far away -- including Ryan Clark's. It makes me a little sick that it took a tragedy to which I could relate to remind me of the finality and profundity of death. I cannot imagine having to bear this reminder while coping with the loss being felt by the families of the victims and the students of Virginia Tech. It all makes the word "tragedy" seem so quaint.