IN LOVING MEMORY OF
Susan Lee
Schmidt
January 7, 1987 – July 30, 2014
Obituary
Susan Lee Schmidt, 27 of Denton, passed away July 30, 2014 at Methodist Hospital in Dallas. Susan was born on January 7, 1987 in Monterrey, CA to Allen L. Schmidt and Cheryl Lynn Brinkerhoff Schmidt. She was a graduate of Marcus High School in Flower Mound and attended the University of North Texas. Susan's skill as an artist lives on in her absence. Susan lived life by being the change she wished to see in the world, and made us all better by knowing her.
Please join Susan's friends and family in a celebration of Susan's life at a Memorial Service on Saturday, August 9, 2014 from 10:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. at the home of Cheryl and Allen Schmidt, Susan's parents. Their address is 631 Comanche Circle, Shady Shores, TX 76208. Dress is casual, as Susan would have preferred.
In lieu of flowers, Susan's parents ask that memorial donations be made in Susan's name to the SPCA of Texas in Denton.
Susan is survived by her parents Allen and Cheryl Schmidt of Shady Shores, sisters Katherine Schmidt-Morrell of Houston, Kristen Michelle Schmidt of Denton and grandmother Joyce Brinkerhoff of Schertz.
Little Miss Sunshine may be gone, but her light lives on.
Little Miss Sunshine . -Natalia Jones nataliatheferal
The first time I met Sue all I could think was that she looked like art. She was beautiful, but that's not what made an impression on me. It was the way she painted on her eyeliner. We both were in high school and I always had a flair for fashion. Growing up as a twin, fashion was always my means of self expression. I liked loud colors and prints and I always was trying to stay ahead of the latest trends. I wanted to look different. Unlike anyone else. I guess to remind everyone that I was an individual, not just one "of the twins." Sue was younger and much more timid than me. Sue wasn't the type of person to ever demand attention or try to win affection. That's not why she painted her eyeliner to such extremes. She did it because she liked the way it looked. It always reminded me of Frida Kahlo's eyebrows or Salvador Dali's pointy mustache. At first glance, it was alarming. Every fashion magazine will tell you it's wrong. Eyeliner should be catlike, not thick as caterpillars. Just like eyebrows should be perfectly arched, not connected, and mustaches are not meant to hold flowers. Any of the above would look ridiculous on ordinary people. Out of place, too contrived, too cartoony. But Sue wasn't ordinary. Her eyeliner wasn't silly at all. It was beautiful because it was her self expression. It was Sue's style. No one else's. I remember thinking in that moment we met, that I hoped she never stopped wearing her eyeliner like that. I hoped she never would try to look like all the other girls, because I admired her so much for being brave enough to just be her. At 15, that was something I had never really seen in another girl. Especially from a freshman girl in suburbia USA that is our hometown. I wish I had told her how much I always admired her for that.
During college, my favorite fashion statement was some kind of clever tee. By the time I graduated, I had an entire dresser filled with T-shirts. By some means of measurement I can't quite seem to remember the conversion for, I thought this made me "pretty grownup" and fairly witty. Favorites included an Urban Outfitters' Poison baseball tee, Junk Food Jem find and a Delia's dinosaur tee. But my most favorite was a Little Miss Sunshine tee. I remember the first time I wore that shirt. I saw Sue that day and we both gushed over how much we loved the Little Miss books. I told her she should have that shirt because she was the real Little Miss Sunshine. Of course she didn't take it, but every time I wore it I thought of Sue. You see, Sue's eyes may have been painted black as night, but she always shined like the sun. Sue just had this way of lighting up a room and everyone who happened to walk in her path. I know Sue had bad days just like anyone else, but I never saw that light flicker. She was always just the most optimistic, kind and genuinely giving person I had ever known. She just had this way of telling you what you needed to hear when it was impossible for her to know that you needed to hear that. I honestly can't remember Sue ever being negative or speaking unkind of anyone. I admired her for that even more than I admired her for her eyeliner.
After college, I moved away. I was in a very dark place and felt very lost. Even from a distance, Sue would occasionally shine her light towards me. She would send me messages of love and encouragement on particularly dark days. There's no way she could have known how much I needed that little bit of light, but somehow she did.
When I heard that light went out today, my heart broke. Sue was only 27. I know this will sound odd, but I've always thought how great it will be to see Sue as an old lady. I just liked to imagine what she'd wear or what she would be painting. Anytime I think of going home, I always think of seeing Sue. I just expected her to be there like my favorite places. So many happy memories include Sue. It never occurred to me that she wouldn't be there. I was just so used to seeing the sun, I never thought it would burn out.
I want to be really angry. I want to say how unfair it is, but I know that's not what Sue would want. So, instead, here's my challenge to myself and anyone who may be reading this. I challenge us to be a light like Sue. I have wasted so much time rereading old chapters and planning for future story lines. I have this terrible habit of not actively reading my current page. Today, I realize how bratty I've been to feel so entitled to old age or an easy life. I have no idea what tomorrow has in store or if I will be lucky enough to see it. I have let some dark chapters make me a pretty big cynic. But I used to be a lot like Sue. I don't want to let a few trips in the dark keep me from the sunshine any longer. Here's my plan to stay in sunlight, no matter the course of the day. If you find yourself in the dark, especially today, close your eyes. Take a deep breath and really concentrate on your body. Your breaths. Your heartbeat. Smile, even if it's painful. Open your eyes. Even if the sun isn't out, let yourself feel its warmth. Sue may be gone, but her light stays shining on all of us. I think it's time for me to start shining my light again. Life is too short to be angry or sad or unforgiving. Tell someone you're sorry. Tell someone you forgive them. Tell someone you love them. Tell someone thank you. Say what you need to say to step into the warmth that is today. The sun may be gone, but it's still a beautiful day. If Sue taught me anything, it's that every day can have sunlight, if you just let it in. And, good eyeliner is always a bonus.
To learn more about Little Miss Sunshine, her heroic fight with chronic liver disease and how far her light reached, visit http://www.gofundme.com/sunbeamsuzie
-
Photo by Joshua Cantu
Please join Susan's friends and family in a celebration of Susan's life at a Memorial Service on Saturday, August 9, 2014 from 10:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. at the home of Cheryl and Allen Schmidt, Susan's parents. Their address is 631 Comanche Circle, Shady Shores, TX 76208. Dress is casual, as Susan would have preferred.
In lieu of flowers, Susan's parents ask that memorial donations be made in Susan's name to the SPCA of Texas in Denton.
Susan is survived by her parents Allen and Cheryl Schmidt of Shady Shores, sisters Katherine Schmidt-Morrell of Houston, Kristen Michelle Schmidt of Denton and grandmother Joyce Brinkerhoff of Schertz.
Little Miss Sunshine may be gone, but her light lives on.
Little Miss Sunshine . -Natalia Jones nataliatheferal
The first time I met Sue all I could think was that she looked like art. She was beautiful, but that's not what made an impression on me. It was the way she painted on her eyeliner. We both were in high school and I always had a flair for fashion. Growing up as a twin, fashion was always my means of self expression. I liked loud colors and prints and I always was trying to stay ahead of the latest trends. I wanted to look different. Unlike anyone else. I guess to remind everyone that I was an individual, not just one "of the twins." Sue was younger and much more timid than me. Sue wasn't the type of person to ever demand attention or try to win affection. That's not why she painted her eyeliner to such extremes. She did it because she liked the way it looked. It always reminded me of Frida Kahlo's eyebrows or Salvador Dali's pointy mustache. At first glance, it was alarming. Every fashion magazine will tell you it's wrong. Eyeliner should be catlike, not thick as caterpillars. Just like eyebrows should be perfectly arched, not connected, and mustaches are not meant to hold flowers. Any of the above would look ridiculous on ordinary people. Out of place, too contrived, too cartoony. But Sue wasn't ordinary. Her eyeliner wasn't silly at all. It was beautiful because it was her self expression. It was Sue's style. No one else's. I remember thinking in that moment we met, that I hoped she never stopped wearing her eyeliner like that. I hoped she never would try to look like all the other girls, because I admired her so much for being brave enough to just be her. At 15, that was something I had never really seen in another girl. Especially from a freshman girl in suburbia USA that is our hometown. I wish I had told her how much I always admired her for that.
During college, my favorite fashion statement was some kind of clever tee. By the time I graduated, I had an entire dresser filled with T-shirts. By some means of measurement I can't quite seem to remember the conversion for, I thought this made me "pretty grownup" and fairly witty. Favorites included an Urban Outfitters' Poison baseball tee, Junk Food Jem find and a Delia's dinosaur tee. But my most favorite was a Little Miss Sunshine tee. I remember the first time I wore that shirt. I saw Sue that day and we both gushed over how much we loved the Little Miss books. I told her she should have that shirt because she was the real Little Miss Sunshine. Of course she didn't take it, but every time I wore it I thought of Sue. You see, Sue's eyes may have been painted black as night, but she always shined like the sun. Sue just had this way of lighting up a room and everyone who happened to walk in her path. I know Sue had bad days just like anyone else, but I never saw that light flicker. She was always just the most optimistic, kind and genuinely giving person I had ever known. She just had this way of telling you what you needed to hear when it was impossible for her to know that you needed to hear that. I honestly can't remember Sue ever being negative or speaking unkind of anyone. I admired her for that even more than I admired her for her eyeliner.
After college, I moved away. I was in a very dark place and felt very lost. Even from a distance, Sue would occasionally shine her light towards me. She would send me messages of love and encouragement on particularly dark days. There's no way she could have known how much I needed that little bit of light, but somehow she did.
When I heard that light went out today, my heart broke. Sue was only 27. I know this will sound odd, but I've always thought how great it will be to see Sue as an old lady. I just liked to imagine what she'd wear or what she would be painting. Anytime I think of going home, I always think of seeing Sue. I just expected her to be there like my favorite places. So many happy memories include Sue. It never occurred to me that she wouldn't be there. I was just so used to seeing the sun, I never thought it would burn out.
I want to be really angry. I want to say how unfair it is, but I know that's not what Sue would want. So, instead, here's my challenge to myself and anyone who may be reading this. I challenge us to be a light like Sue. I have wasted so much time rereading old chapters and planning for future story lines. I have this terrible habit of not actively reading my current page. Today, I realize how bratty I've been to feel so entitled to old age or an easy life. I have no idea what tomorrow has in store or if I will be lucky enough to see it. I have let some dark chapters make me a pretty big cynic. But I used to be a lot like Sue. I don't want to let a few trips in the dark keep me from the sunshine any longer. Here's my plan to stay in sunlight, no matter the course of the day. If you find yourself in the dark, especially today, close your eyes. Take a deep breath and really concentrate on your body. Your breaths. Your heartbeat. Smile, even if it's painful. Open your eyes. Even if the sun isn't out, let yourself feel its warmth. Sue may be gone, but her light stays shining on all of us. I think it's time for me to start shining my light again. Life is too short to be angry or sad or unforgiving. Tell someone you're sorry. Tell someone you forgive them. Tell someone you love them. Tell someone thank you. Say what you need to say to step into the warmth that is today. The sun may be gone, but it's still a beautiful day. If Sue taught me anything, it's that every day can have sunlight, if you just let it in. And, good eyeliner is always a bonus.
To learn more about Little Miss Sunshine, her heroic fight with chronic liver disease and how far her light reached, visit http://www.gofundme.com/sunbeamsuzie
-
Photo by Joshua Cantu
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