SickForSykora
04-19-2002, 10:45 AM
Friday, April 19, 2002~ (Taken from The Bergen Record)
By BRIAN KLADKO
Staff Writer
Jessica Correa crying into the graduation gown of her brother, Danny, who was killed in the WTC attacks. (PETER MONSEES/THE RECORD)~Sorry, that was supposed to be the picture.
In a corner of a gymnasium that echoed with the whoops and hollers of Berkeley College's commencement Thursday afternoon, there was a pocket of profound, almost paralyzing grief.
Helman and Marina Correa, along with about 20 relatives, clustered to witness a ritual that was supposed to include their son, Danny, a star accounting student at the business school. The 25-year-old Fairview resident completed his course work and had one last hurdle to graduation: an internship at Marsh U.S.A., an insurance company at the World Trade Center.
His dreams, and life, were buried beneath the rubble of the north tower. But his accomplishments were not.
At the ceremony, held at the Fairleigh Dickinson University gym in Hackensack - ŸBerkeley College doesn't have a building big enough - Danny Correa's father and sister walked onto the stage with the black cap and gown that Danny would have worn, and accepted an associate degree on his behalf.
"My family and I are feeling the deepest pain you could ever imagine," Helman told the audience. "But in the same way, we are so proud of Danny - a young man full of dreams, talent, and full of life."
Danny Correa would have been the first in his family to graduate from college. While attending Berkeley's campuses in Waldwick and West Paterson, he won admission to Phi Theta Kappa, the honor society for two-year colleges.
He frequently helped Spanish-speaking students navigate English, and made such an impression on one professor that she thanked him at the end of the semester for teaching her.
"Danny was a student, but he was also an educator, because he taught us how to live by making the most of his life - helping others, and modeling for all of us that you can do what you do with love and compassion," said Berkeley College President Mildred Garcia.
"A lot of students go through school somewhat anonymously," said college spokeswoman Kathleen Meehan Do. "Everyone knew Danny. He just sort of made an impression."
As hundreds of exuberant students marched to their seats to the strains of "Pomp and Circumstance," Helman Correa and his daughter, Jessica, stood off to the side, holding up the cap and gown and Danny's photo.
Helman Correa, a supervisor for a cleaning company, stared straight ahead, biting his lip. Marina, a school bus driver, stood a few feet away, sobbing uncontrollably and drying her tears with paper towels.
Father, mother, and sister were called to the stage, but Marina was too distraught. After Helman took the leather-bound diploma in his hands, he gently kissed it, then held it to the sky.
"I think that was one of the hardest moments of my life," Helman said later. "I wasn't feeling my legs. But I did it for him, because he deserves whatever we can do for him."
Making it even harder was the joy that surrounded them. As Helman hunched forward, burying his face in his hands, and Marina gasped for breath, others were taking pictures and cheering for their sons and daughters.
"We have to understand that people are celebrating," the father said. "And somehow we are celebrating, too."
I cried my eyes out reading this article. That must've been so unbareable :(
"Shut your halfwit pieholes!"~Squidward
By BRIAN KLADKO
Staff Writer
Jessica Correa crying into the graduation gown of her brother, Danny, who was killed in the WTC attacks. (PETER MONSEES/THE RECORD)~Sorry, that was supposed to be the picture.
In a corner of a gymnasium that echoed with the whoops and hollers of Berkeley College's commencement Thursday afternoon, there was a pocket of profound, almost paralyzing grief.
Helman and Marina Correa, along with about 20 relatives, clustered to witness a ritual that was supposed to include their son, Danny, a star accounting student at the business school. The 25-year-old Fairview resident completed his course work and had one last hurdle to graduation: an internship at Marsh U.S.A., an insurance company at the World Trade Center.
His dreams, and life, were buried beneath the rubble of the north tower. But his accomplishments were not.
At the ceremony, held at the Fairleigh Dickinson University gym in Hackensack - ŸBerkeley College doesn't have a building big enough - Danny Correa's father and sister walked onto the stage with the black cap and gown that Danny would have worn, and accepted an associate degree on his behalf.
"My family and I are feeling the deepest pain you could ever imagine," Helman told the audience. "But in the same way, we are so proud of Danny - a young man full of dreams, talent, and full of life."
Danny Correa would have been the first in his family to graduate from college. While attending Berkeley's campuses in Waldwick and West Paterson, he won admission to Phi Theta Kappa, the honor society for two-year colleges.
He frequently helped Spanish-speaking students navigate English, and made such an impression on one professor that she thanked him at the end of the semester for teaching her.
"Danny was a student, but he was also an educator, because he taught us how to live by making the most of his life - helping others, and modeling for all of us that you can do what you do with love and compassion," said Berkeley College President Mildred Garcia.
"A lot of students go through school somewhat anonymously," said college spokeswoman Kathleen Meehan Do. "Everyone knew Danny. He just sort of made an impression."
As hundreds of exuberant students marched to their seats to the strains of "Pomp and Circumstance," Helman Correa and his daughter, Jessica, stood off to the side, holding up the cap and gown and Danny's photo.
Helman Correa, a supervisor for a cleaning company, stared straight ahead, biting his lip. Marina, a school bus driver, stood a few feet away, sobbing uncontrollably and drying her tears with paper towels.
Father, mother, and sister were called to the stage, but Marina was too distraught. After Helman took the leather-bound diploma in his hands, he gently kissed it, then held it to the sky.
"I think that was one of the hardest moments of my life," Helman said later. "I wasn't feeling my legs. But I did it for him, because he deserves whatever we can do for him."
Making it even harder was the joy that surrounded them. As Helman hunched forward, burying his face in his hands, and Marina gasped for breath, others were taking pictures and cheering for their sons and daughters.
"We have to understand that people are celebrating," the father said. "And somehow we are celebrating, too."
I cried my eyes out reading this article. That must've been so unbareable :(
"Shut your halfwit pieholes!"~Squidward