Subdued by sudden death

The mood at the Gazette has been decidedly subdued over the last several days.

Sudden death has taken our breath away.

Instead of planning delectable holiday menus, we have been planning a funeral dinner.

Instead of displaying Christmas decorations, we have been displaying flower arrangements. In place of Christmas greeting cards, we have all shared in cards and notes of condolences to our Gazette family in honor of Roger Schmidt, our co-worker and our friend.

Somewhat of a curmudgeon, though mellowing with time, Roger was at times a "stick-in-the-mud," unwilling to accept new technologies and somewhat resistant to change. He was our official weatherman, reporting precipitation amounts on those rare occasions when the rains would fall, and bemoaning the condition of the stock market, only barely celebrating when the stock ended up -- he'd have loved to see the Dow go over 10,000 yesterday -- but he's beyond caring about that now.

He was also, in so many ways, the "go-to" guy. If a computer failed, he was the transport guy to take in to for repair. If the AP wire garbled, he'd adjust the receiver. No soap in the bathroom? He restocked the supply.

He was also very predictable, a creature of habit. He had pet names for nearly everyone and used them without fail. He waited with glee for me to return to my desk each afternoon so he could fan me with the daily dummies for the next day's paper -- and if I reached behind me for them with the wrong hand, he'd snatch them from my grasp, until I did it the "right" way, the Roger way.

Every day, since he died, we've each had our Roger moments -- walking in each morning, I still expect to hear his greeting -- to see him standing at Bruce's desk, detailing one rumor or another he'd heard about town. He was a quite a news source at times.

And he was as much a part of this place as the air we breathe and the lights over our heads (inside joke, forgive me). The days and weeks ahead will reveal just how much of this place was held together by his seemingly effortless dedication. He also knew all of the skeletons, which closets they were tucked into and who held the key. A lot of the day-to-day history of this place was lost last Thursday, along with a friend.

Yes, our collective mood has been decidedly subdued.

Sudden death has taken our breath away.

Everyone deals with death in a different way. Some get busy and stay that way, until the event integrates itself into the fabric of their lives. Others are momentarily paralyzed, needing time immediately to come to terms with the loss, unable to function until that time has been taken. Still others reach out to those that they love with an increased fervency, recognizing that in reality, we are all but one step away from eternity. For most, it's a combination of emotions, reactions. Roger certainly didn't suspect that his illness, easily passed off as a touch of the flu for days, was his last.

Sudden death. Typically, we wonder in our hearts, if this was our last day, what would we have done differently? Growing up during the Cold War, the thought occurred to me more than once, the threat of nuclear annihilation, coming at a moment's notice, inspired such mental meandering.

Such thoughts are normal and exclusively human. They can be beneficial, to a degree. It is good to take stock occasionally, to chart our steps and to order our lives, to see if somewhere along the way, we have strayed from the path of our hopes and dreams. Too much introspection, however, can be a gateway to despair. Eat right, exercise -- die anyway. The seeming futility of life bears down upon our hearts and, again, we are paralyzed.

Despair, Depression. Death. How do we continue to live in the shadow of these dark moments? Where do we find the strength to continue? Where is our hope? Our future? We were made to ponder such deep questions as these. And the answers are provided. In the renewal of creation each spring is the hint of renewal possible for our lives. The beauty of a sunset painted with heavenly hues is a hint of coming glory. The sweet smell of a new baby in our arms contains the very essence of heaven's scent. There is, as songwriter Rich Mullin penned, "Such a thing as glory, and there are hints of it everywhere." And, there is the assurance that on a bleak Sunday morning, when despair had the upper hand, and grief ruled, Christ did rise.

"I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death." Hosea 13:14 (NIV)