It has been a long, rough week in Enon.

We have been horrified by the tragic death of Deputy Suzanne Waughtel Hopper and by the wounding of Officer Jeremy Blum here in our community on New Year’s Day. And we’ve asked ourselves over and over, “How could something so terrible happen in our town? Why?”

During the shootout, the awfulness in the air made it hard to breathe. From the perimeter where the press waited, I watched the well-planned cooperation between departments unfold as the situation was brought under control. I saw the steely eyes of the law enforcement officers as they walked to their vehicles. They were not the eyes of those I knew.

The faces of the paramedics haunted me all week. I do not know how they were able to even stand after caring for wounded officers they knew. But they pulled something deep from within themselves and they did what they were trained to do.

Tears were not enough for some of us this week. It was too awful for tears.

I could see the shock in the eyes of law enforcement and emergency workers, and like an awful contagion, it spread throughout the community. The next day it was in the eyes of people in the stores and local restaurants.

I apologize for comparing such a serious thing to fiction but, well, it reminded me of the movie “Star Wars” when a Jedi Knight was struck with a sudden weakness as he sensed tragedy and a “disturbance in the force.”

That is what we have experienced — a disturbance in the force — a bruising of that invisible tie that binds us all together.

We have lost a deputy whom many of us respected and admired. We’ve witnessed the wounding of Officer Blum during his amazing act of bravery trying to get to Deputy Hopper. We have seen the name of our town, a violent shootout, and our Sheriff choking back tears on televised national news reports ... over and over again.

Conversations in restaurants and stores were hushed as patrons shook their heads in denial as we learned more of the circumstances. Smatterings of anger and frustration were stirred into the stew of our emotions.

On Facebook, one by one, community members posted that now familiar black background with the blue horizontal line or the gold shield with a black band honoring a law enforcement officer who had died in the line of duty. Our flags were at half-staff as we gathered to honor the fallen deputy. Many this week turned to God in prayer privately or at community vigils and services.

Our community will not be the same after what we have gone through this week, but somehow our spirits will find a way to work though this just as Park Layne and Clark County did in 1978 when Deputy Raynor was killed.

I hope we can take lessons learned from this tragedy to make our agencies even better prepared than they already were. I hope Deputy Hopper’s exemplary service will inspire law enforcement cadets. I hope the children she taught in D.A.R.E. honor her by making lawful choices. I know the entire county will watch over her family and support Officer Blum as he recovers. I hope we might appreciate every day knowing that our short lives might abruptly end sooner than we expected.

Yet, some things will not change. Our law enforcement and emergency services will continue to do their best to keep us safe. And we will, more than ever, return that dedication with great respect, and sometimes with hugs and tears.

Rest in peace, Deputy Hopper.