Mike and Peg Herbstritt's Bellefonte farmhouse is decorated like that of any proud parents of a college kid. The walls are adorned with the orange and maroon of Virginia Tech and the blue and white of Penn State -- ribbons, autographed footballs, signed photos, colorful quilts and even Nittany Lion wind chimes.
Mike, dressed in a blue Rose Bowl hooded-sweatshirt and Nittany Lion beanie hat, put his arm around his wife. Peg's thin frame was draped in a gray Penn State sweatshirt with a maroon VT shirt underneath. They sat on the porch swing, nestled in a hand-sewn quilt made of their son's old T-shirts.
But for the Herbstritts, the school colors and the memorabilia hold a different meaning. The football signed by members of the Penn State team, the autographed photo of Cassel Coliseum in Blacksburg, Va., and the VT ribbon magnet on their blue car are constant reminders -- reminders that something is missing from their lives.
The Herbstritts' son, Jeremy Herbstritt, a Penn State alumnus and graduate student at Virginia Tech, was one of the 32 people killed in the April 16, 2007, school shooting at Virginia Tech. He was gunned down while in class.
Jeremy Herbstritt, then 27, was supposed to be up in Massachusetts with his family for the Boston Marathon the day of the shooting, but he called his dad the weekend before and asked if he could stay at school to work on a project. Glad to see his son was making school his top priority, Mike agreed.
While in Boston, Peg said she remembered receiving a call from Jeremy's girlfriend, Alexis Bozzo, asking if she'd heard from Jeremy that day. She recalled what Lexi had said.
" 'There's been a shooting. I can't get a hold of Jeremy. Have you heard from him?' " Peg said, repeating Lexi's words.
Peg said she and Mike ran into the Sheridan Hotel where they were staying and watched the giant television in the lobby. Mike remembers seeing the "breaking news" bar scroll across the screen, announcing there had been a shooting at Virginia Tech.
After trying to get a hold of their son all day, the Herbstritts received a call at about midnight from the Virginia State Police. Officers believed Jeremy had been killed.
"No parent wants to get that phone call," Mike said. "I look back on that and think, 'What if he would have come to Boston?' "
After a few more days of uncertainty, waiting for bodies to be identified and students to be accounted for, the Herbstritts finally got the news that their son was one of the slain students.
Two years later, the Herbstritts still struggle with the reality that Jeremy is gone.
"I felt numb," Peg, 53, said. "I know he's dead, but sometimes I think he's going to come home."
Mike, who works at Penn State's Office of Physical Plant, said there are days when he struggles to get out of bed in the morning. If it weren't for his wife's persistence, he said he'd be tempted to lie in bed all day.
"I collapse. I get sad. It still doesn't make sense," Mike, 54, said.
His heart sinks when he goes to events and sees young people smiling and laughing. He thinks about Jeremy and misses his smile, his laughter. He wishes his son could be there.
"It's like none of this should be happening," Mike said. "Jeremy and 31 others shouldn't have been killed."
The murder of the eldest of their four children has affected Peg in another way. She said she worries a lot about her other kids -- Stephanie, Jennifer and Joe -- all of whom are Penn Staters.
"I could be at work or at school and someone could come in with a gun," she said.
Peg, who teaches nursing at the Central Pennsylvania Institute of Science and Technology, said her son was killed in an unnecessary act of violence. To cope with her feelings about the shooting, Peg writes letters to legislators, asking for stricter gun control laws.
"You can't turn back the clock, but maybe you can prevent something from happening again," Peg said.
For the Herbstritt family, out of tragedy comes hope and out of despair comes the drive to make a difference. The Herbstritts said they are determined to use their sadness to create something positive.
"Our goal as a family is to build a track for Bellefonte," Mike said. "It's a goal about the community -- Jeremy was all about the community. It's honoring what he did."
The Penn State Civil Engineering Department hosted a memorial run a month after Jeremy was killed, and two years later, the show of support is still going strong.
The 3rd Annual Jeremy Herbstritt 5k Run/Walk will take place Thursday -- the second anniversary of the shootings -- at 6:30 p.m., followed by candlelight vigil. The proceeds from the race will go into a fund to rebuild a community track in Bellefonte.
The gesture is an appropriate one, the Herbstritts said. Jeremy was an avid athlete who enjoyed running, rock climbing, skiing and kayaking. Peg said running for a charity would be something Jeremy would do.
The Herbstritts smiled as they noted the irony of all the plaques, pictures and memorial services in honor of Jeremy. When he was alive, they said, Jeremy wasn't one to stand in the spotlight.
"He worked hard for everything he did, but he always gave other people credit," Mike said.
The pain of losing their son is intense, but the Herbstritts said a tragedy such as this one proves that although some people are capable of killing, they are also capable of loving. Mike said the students both at Penn State and Virginia Tech have been outstanding to his family. The love and support pouring from both populations has been steadying, he said.
"Part of our family is Penn State now," Mike said. "You've got heart."
Peg agreed. She said she always knew her son was an amazing person, but to get recognition from other people is a reassuring feeling.
"When the whole world says your child was a special child, that's comforting," Peg said.
As the Herbstritts sat on their porch swing, reminiscing about their son, they looked out on the fields where he played, worked and grew up. There is a memorial plaque donated by neighbors on the porch. It usually sits in the yard after spring. Peg said it might look like a gravestone, but it reminds her of her son every time she looks out into the yard. Her husband nodded in agreement.
"We'll miss Jeremy, always," Mike said.
