Tariq Nelson

The Petersons lost their only child Erin last week. A normal day, then suddenly, a pain you can’t escape. One day you may have to face it yourself…

Grieving families of the 32 victims from last week’s shootings at Virginia Tech have returned to homes scattered around the country and across the world, preparing to bury the dead and restart their lives

The feelings are more complicated in Centreville, a bedroom community of the nation’s capital and home to the gunman and two of his victims — all of whom attended the same high school.

Erin Nicole Peterson, daughter of Grafton and Celeste, was 18 when she died. Grafton, 48, a construction supervisor, looks strong, invulnerable. But his dark brown eyes, rimmed with tears, betray him

About 18 years ago, he lost his 8-year-old daughter Carla to cancer. Three days later, Celeste gave birth to Erin.

Celeste, a senior administrator at defense contractor Raytheon Co. in Falls Church, Va., heard about the shootings from co-workers Monday. She immediately went online to check the location of her daughter’s morning class, intermediate French.

Her heart fell when she saw the location: “NOR,” for Norris Hall, site of the second shooting.

As soon as Grafton heard about the shootings, he knew Erin was dead. She would have called. Erin called her parents every day since going away to school, especially when she thought they might be anxious.

The Petersons were exceptionally close to their only child. Celeste, 48, a devout Baptist, used to pray for Erin before she left for school. When Erin went to soccer camp at Duke University, Celeste stayed at a nearby hotel all week, several years in a row. During Erin’s high school years, her parents chauffeured her to school. They rarely missed a basketball game.

At Virginia Tech, Erin was four hours away — an eternity to the Petersons. Each time they drove her to school, most recently after a spring break trip to New York, Grafton cried on the way there and back. Erin started calling him crybaby, but she understood.

“We explained to her that it was hard for us to live our life without her and we needed her to call us to ease that, and she understood,” Celeste said. “When she went away to college, it’s like the air went out of the house.”

The Petersons drove to Blacksburg with relatives Monday, praying that Erin was alive. By Thursday, they were driving back to Centreville, preparing to bury Erin next to her sister.

When they arrived in Blacksburg, they checked into the Inn at Virginia Tech, still hoping. The next morning, a crowd showed up at their room, including Virginia state police, a doctor and a minister. Erin was dead, they said. They needed fingerprints and dental records to officially identify her.

“After that, my in-chargeness, my in-control was gone,” Celeste said. “I couldn’t escape the pain, and that was the worst thing. It was like someone sneaking up and scaring you — you can’t wipe it off, you can’t rip it off. It’s all over you. You can sit on the floor, lie on the floor, get up — doesn’t matter.”

The family spent two days waiting for Erin’s body to be released.

Before leaving Virginia Tech, Grafton went to gather his daughter’s belongings from her dorm room. He and a niece found bouquets of flowers and pages of messages from students propped against the door.

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Grafton said he used to stand in Erin’s room and think about her returning at the end of the semester. He still goes in sometimes, but he knows she’s not coming back.

“You never get over it,” he said. “You get where you can live again, but you never get over it.”

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They have avoided seeing video footage of the gunman, Seung-hui Cho, or of pundits and psychologists dissecting his rants. The Petersons don’t criticize NBC for airing Cho’s videos. They don’t speak out against the university for failing to monitor Cho after he was involuntarily committed for mental health treatment. They have nothing to say about school security, gun violence, mental illness or why a boy who grew up across town killed their daughter.

“Just tell the world I loved my baby and somebody crazy took her, and I hope the schools learn something so nobody ever does it again,” Grafton said Friday, before leaving the basement to comfort more mourners, enveloping them in his broad arms

[...]

Eventually, the mourning will stop. The names of the victims at Virginia Tech will disappear from the headlines. Strangers will stop wearing maroon and orange ribbons. Classmates will graduate. Teachers will retire. Neighbors will move.

But the Petersons will always remember Erin and the spring day when they lost their anchor to the world. [Entire Article...]