We are Virginia Tech: Hunter Gresham

As Virginia Tech marks the 10-year commemoration of April 16, 2007, members of our community are sharing their reflections. We recognize these words may bring forth personal memories of the tragedy that affected our campus so deeply. While these posts serve as a reflection rather than a recounting, be aware that they may contain potentially distressing material. 

Today, hear from Hunter Gresham, who took the lead on "A Concert for Virginia Tech" in September 2007. Hunter shares how the concert united a community and how she's still learning what it looks like to remember and grieve. 

This is my message to you…

“Rise up this mornin’,

Smile with the risin’ sun,

Three little birds

Pitch by my doorstep

Singin’ sweet songs

Of melodies pure and true,

Sayin’, This is my message to you.”

I’m in my 16th year as an employee at Virginia Tech. I come from a long line of dedicated Hokies (my grandfather was in the Corps, my mother was a cheerleader, my little brother was the HokieBird…just a few examples of my family’s fascination with all things maroon and orange). I did not get my degree from Tech (I chose a different shade of orange), but I’m a proud Hokie all the same.

I think it is fair to say, alumni or not, that April 16, 2007, was a horrific, tragic, senseless day. Some sit a little closer to the awfulness than others, but you can’t know and love Virginia Tech and not have been affected. It was also a defining moment for the Hokie Nation. The moment when our university motto of Ut Prosim (That I May Serve) played out in real-time, in practical ways, and in some of the most meaningful moments.

I was employed as Virginia Tech’s director of special events. We were about to launch a comprehensive fundraising campaign. I was a new mom trying to care for my six-month-old daughter. I was heartbroken, scared, confused, and sad. And I wanted to help. This was when I first heard the Mister Rogers quote to “look for the helpers” in scary, difficult, and tragic times. In those initial days, I started paying attention and I began to understand.

I did what I could in those early days and weeks, but my “official calling” for contribution soon came—in the most unusual and unexpected way. Through an odd series of events, a prominent music artist expressed interest in doing a benefit concert. I was tapped to produce it, to be the university’s project manager for a headliner concert in Lane Stadium. Just shy of 6 months after the Virginia Tech tragedy, A Concert for Virginia Tech took place featuring Nas, Phil Vassar, John Mayer, and the Dave Matthews Band.

Hans Christian Andersen said, “Where words fail, music speaks.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said, “Music is the universal language of mankind.”

But I think poetic hip-hop artist Macklemore maybe said it best: “Music is therapy. Music moves people. It connects people in ways that no other medium can. It pulls heartstrings. It acts as medicine.”

That concert was, in fact, a timely and much needed dose of medicine for the Hokie Nation. It wasn’t a cure (there’s no such thing for this type of loss), but it was an ease elixir… a magical potion that made something so painfully intense seem just a little more bearable.

Toward the end of that mystical, musical evening, Dave Matthews began singing the Bob Marley song, Three Little Birds. In the most awe-inspiring and effortless way, tens of thousands of people found hope, comfort, and commonality as we sang the words, “Don’t worry ‘bout a thing, ‘cause every little thing gonna be all right.”

I logically knew that everything was not going to be all right. We were never going to be the same. But, it was in that overwhelming moment that I realized the power of music and community. The power of a song and not being alone in emotion.

The horror of those first few days has stayed with me for the 10 years since. I’m honored to have served the role I did, personally and professionally. To this day, it is by far my proudest professional accomplishment… I think because I put so much of myself into it and because it meant so much to so many people. But personally, I’ve blocked out any associated emotion and compartmentalized the sadness that lingers. I’ve never attended the candlelight vigil. I haven’t participated in the 3.2 Run in Remembrance. I’ve avoided the community picnic. I’ve largely avoided, albeit somewhat unconsciously until now, any associated activities.

As I’ve spent time reflecting on these past 10 years, I realize that I’ve not enacted what I learned the night of the concert. I stopped seeing the helpers. I stopped hearing the music. I chose alone over affiliation. So, this year, the 10th year since that unforgettable day… I’m going to do something different.

This is my promise to myself… and, this is my message to you…

Open your mind and remember.

Open your hands and help.

Open your heart and feel.

Open your arms and hug.

There is strength in numbers. There is harmony in hope. There is victory in compassion. And there is undeniable love in the Hokie Nation.

We are Virginia Tech. We will prevail.