Commentary: When someone dies, everyone always says how wonderful and special the person was.
Sometimes it’s true. We feel the ache. We see the depth and unanimity of the community’s grief. Whether we focus on the devastating loss or on how lucky we were to have her with us at all, it hurts.
Karen Trujillo was a dedicated educator, highly competent and diligent, and she had a heart that never neglected the human side of whatever was going on. For two years her professional life was a roller-coaster.
A teacher and NMSU administrator, she started 2018 as a newly-elected county commissioner; within weeks, she was appointed and unanimously confirmed as New Mexico’s Education Secretary, but within months she was back home just when the school district needed her, having fired its previous superintendent. She took that job just in time for a cyberattack followed by the pandemic. Everyone lauded her appointment, and her performance in an unprecedented situation was exemplary.
Her friend and co-worker Kelly Jameson, who called her “a consummate leader,” said Karen “never got to have what you would call a normal day. She navigated crisis after crisis after crisis, and handled it all flawlessly, with grace and bravery, and not once did I hear her shy away from anything without a solution.”
David Greenberg praised “her work ethic and passion for doing the right thing. She was constantly in motion, doing everything, totally engaged.” While Karen was still at NMSU, working on getting the federal “21stCentury Community Learning Center” grant for Las Cruces and Gadsden School Districts, she recognized that they could also do one for Hatch, and “sacrificed all her personal time for several weeks” to make that grant happen too because “she saw an opportunity to do something good for kids.”
Karen never lost sight of the goal, improving education any way possible; and no matter how tough it got she never lost sight of the feelings and needs of folks she worked with. Last June, an LCPS employee and her family were publicly insulted on Main Street with “We don’t want you N’s here!” At a responsive march the next Saturday, the victim said that Karen had unexpectedly “become like my second mother” during the intervening week, she was so concerned about the kids.” [see "Two Saturdays"]
At Friday’s press conference, you saw stuff you don’t see. Male friends and colleagues unable to speak because of their tears.
Ben Trujillo, Karen’s husband, said, “My sweet Karen will be missed. But know this, teachers, her administrative team, she loved what she did. And yeah sometimes it was really hard, really really hard. But as hard as she worked, I don’t think she felt she worked a day. It was her passion. And you guys need to know, she loved you guys.”
He went on to empathize with the young man who’d been driving the van. “I can’t imagine living with such a burden,” he said. “Accidents are accidents.” Not every man could utter those words, and so clearly mean them, less than 24 hours after suddenly losing the woman he’d loved and been loved by for decades.
The suddenness stunned everyone. One minute, you’re walking the dogs, the next . . . Friday most everyone was mumbling something akin to Dogen’s “At each moment, do not rely on tomorrow. Think of this day, and this day only, because the next moment is uncertain and unknown.”