BUCKING THE SYSTEM: DEATH IS HARDER TO ACCEPT WHEN THE CAUSE IS SENSELESS

It was 5:30 a.m. when I first heard the news report that my governor was dead. All I could do was scream "NO!" at the television set, then sit and stare in amazement as the scant details available at the time were reported.

I was in shock, and I sought comfort in my family. I called my husband, who had worked overnight and already knew of the accident. This was something new for us, this grief over a political figure, and we didn't really know what to say. Our call was short.

Afterward, I called my parents in Charleston, who also had learned of the news the night before. My mom, who I am so much alike in spirit, was moved to tears, and we briefly shared our sadness before getting off the telephone.

Still not satisfied, I called the person who knows me better than anyone else: My sister, Clarissa, who teaches in Nashville. Clarissa was preparing for school, but she knew that for me to be up at 5:30 in the morning and calling long distance, something had to be seriously out of sync.

She let me ramble, discussing my past interviews with Carnahan and conversations with Chris Sifford. Like any good therapist, she recognized my need to talk through my pain, and she listened, adding sentiment where appropriate.

I guess what threw me most was Mel Carnahan was the first candidate for a major political office I had ever truly supported. It was surprising, considering I've participated in 11 years' worth of elections since gaining my right to vote, but it's true.

My grief was based in my belief in him. Because of this, Carnahan's unexpected death -- especially in the midst of a close contest for a new office -- was no less painful for me than JFK's death was to the nation so many years ago.

Perhaps the suddenness of Carnahan's death also had a factor in my response. When lives are taken so quickly, you don't know how to react because you don't believe it's real.

I know this is true, because I saw it Thursday afternoon when I went to the scene of a homicide on Lorimier Street. The anger, pain and sadness I had expressed upon learning of Carnahan's death was duplicated in the expressions of the friends and relatives of the victim that day.

The looks told of a death that had occurred too quickly, too unexpectedly to be real. It rendered words useless, as evidenced in the silent mourning taking place in huddled groups of people trying to make sense of a nonsensical act.

You can reconcile some deaths, such as Carnahan's, with our day-to-day lives because of the manner he died. People fly through storms everyday without trouble, so who would have expected this evening of bad weather to result in death?

But can the same be said for the other incident? Why are people continuing to use guns to settle differences? Where does such short-sighted, reactionary thinking come from and how in the world can we eradicate it? It bothers me that we can call each other brother and sister and profess to want to unify our community, and then we perform such acts of supreme ignorance.

The death of Carnahan and the death of Jesus Sides have had an effect on our community this week. Response has been similar to both incidents, and I can only hope we will work through our grief together and search for a way to survive both tragedies.