Memories and Mourning
Posted on July 14, 1996At the memorial service for the five Carolina students who died in the tragic fire in the Phi Gamma Delta fraternity house, my thoughts turned to an earlier time, to a classmate named James Lawrence Whitfield Jr. ’70 and his death 25 years ago — before the victims of the fraternity house fire were born.
Lawrence was from Raleigh, a gifted student and a very special person. He graduated with highest honors and was a member of Phi Beta Kappa and the Order of the Golden Fleece. As a freshman, Lawrence was president of a residence hall; as a senior, he was president of the Wesley Foundation.
Lawrence was selected as one of 24 Marshall Scholars in the United States, and upon completion of his Marshall at Edinburgh University in Scotland, he was to return to study for a doctorate in English at Yale University as a Danforth Fellow.
A few months after our graduation, Lawrence fell to his death while on a climbing expedition in the fabled highlands of northwestern Scotland. I joined many of his classmates, family and friends at his funeral and vividly recall our shared sense of tremendous loss. Lawrence’s future was so bright, and his gifts and special qualities were remarkable.
Like Lawrence, Joanna Kristine Howell, Anne McBride Smith, Mark Briggs Strickland, Robert Joshua Weaver and Benjamin Watson Woodruff were buried not by their children but by their parents. Like Lawrence, each left devoted friends and family to mourn their loss and to wonder why they had to pass in their youth.
Regrettably, each year five to 10 enrolled Carolina students die before they can take that celebrated walk between the yellow potted mums across Kenan field at graduation. While their deaths may not attract as much attention as the five who died in a fraternity house on Mother’s Day as graduation proceeded a few hundred yards away, their lives were just as significant and their deaths just a tragic.
At a time such as this, there is a natural tendency to wonder what could have been done to avoid such a tragedy. We must examine the causes of this terrible event, but whatever changes we make or vow — from fire sprinklers to renewed educational efforts about cigarettes and alcohol — will not alter the sad reality that each Mother’s Day the mothers of these five special young people will be haunted by the loss of their children.
We can take comfort in knowing that throughout this tragedy the University and the town of Chapel Hill responded as a community, reflecting sensitivity, compassion, concern and generosity. In our individual grief we found consolation that our sorrow was shared by countless others. We were reassured that ours is a community that reflects shared values that make us proud and grateful to be a part of Carolina.
There is nothing any of us can do to change the reality behind the pain of losing someone to whom we have been close. I was only 17 when my father, at age 38, was shot and killed in an ambush in Vietnam. My brother Charlie, an avid Carolina fan and UNC graduate in the class of 1976, died only weeks before his 26th birthday. And my brother Buddy was taken by cancer just two days before his 45th birthday. Listening to the comments of those who spoke at the memorial service for our five most recently lost Carolina students flashed back memories of funerals and memorial services and burials for my father, my brothers and my classmate Lawrence Whitfield.
These most recent deaths are another reminder of how fragile and short life can be. We should celebrate the rich memories of those loved ones whom we have lost and be grateful to have been touched by them. But also, we need to reach out to the loved ones and friends who are among us, knowing that life is to be celebrated in the present not in some distant future. As we now know, too often that future may slip away.
Yours at Carolina,
Douglas S. Dibbert ’70
