twenty-something

I never really understood how people can mourn the loss of someone they never knew, never got how a community could cry and carry on over the loss of a virtual stranger. That is, I never understood because I never really felt it myself -- not until University of Vermont student Michelle Gardner-Quinn went missing and was found, a week ago, murdered.

I didn't know Michelle and I can't and won't pretend I did; though I had spent over six years at UVM, Michelle had been there barely six weeks before she met her tragic fate. She was a young and new member of the UVM Community, a stranger to me and to many, but she was still a part of that community and, thus, like a member of my extended family. I am deeply saddened by her passing and, from afar, I grieve with the rest of my people. My heart goes out to her family and friends and, despite my best efforts, I've become one of those people that I've never understood -- a person who mourns for a stranger.

All I know is that my home -- Burlington, UVM -- is in pain. And I'm not there. They're hurting, much more than I am, and there's nothing I can do to help. The sensational news here in Boston is brutal in its reporting, with a volume of coverage I wouldn't have expected. I have seen many familiar sights and faces on television in the past weeks. And, for the first time since I left, I really, really miss my home there at the college on the hill. I wish I could be there to help my community heal.

I still don't understand why we mourn for people we don't know -- but, for once, I feel it.