Things unsaid

This weekend, an old colleague of mine passed away. When I worked at the Vidette, one of the ISU faculty on staff was Richard Hunter, who managed the computer systems. He, along with his son and grandson, died in a boating accident on Saturday. I cannot even imagine what his family is going through.

Richard was a quiet man, but with a dry sense of humor and a kind heart. He was also truly one of the calmest people I have ever known in my entire life. (I can see how a fishing hobby suited him.)

The times I remember him best were either during the hectic days at the Vidette, when eight different people would be asking him for help at once, but especially at night, when I think he preferred to work quietly in his office with one or two other Videtters in the building.

I think, for that reason, the night managers like myself got to know him the best, which is maybe why I was so fond of him. The copy editors and I would be there late, quietly reading our pages and joking, and he'd come over and spend some time with us, troubleshooting our Macs and just chatting. I always made it a point to stop by his office and talk, as well, not just when my G5 or the laser printer was spewing smoke.

Because I knew him at the Vidette for as long as I did (3.5 years), I wish I'd kept in touch better after college graduation. But you don't picture your friends and family as immortal - you always imagine that they will be around for one last chat, one last question - one last late-night joke.

Richard's death is one of two lately that have touched my life. (The other was an old friend's mother, Judy Reiter, who was an exceptional lady and one whom I will miss terribly.) I suppose I have been lucky, in recent years, that my friends and family have mostly had good health. However, these past few weeks has been the first time since my grandpa died that I have really thought about the things that remain unsaid between the dead and the loved ones they leave behind.

If I could have said one thing to my friend's mom before she died, it would have been that she was always one of my favorites of my friends' parents, and still is, and I always admired that she never stopped smiling and laughing, no matter what she had been through.

If I could have said one thing to Richard, it would have been that I wish I could be as calm and patient as he always was, and that talking with him in the late, quiet hours at the paper were some of my favorite memories of that place.

We don't always get the chance to say these things to the people we know - in fact, most of the time, I don't think we get to. Things happen suddenly, without warning. And maybe your feelings about the person were so ingrained in your being that you just never thought to verbalize them - never even to yourself.

But if you can, it's always nice to leave a few less things unsaid.