Funeral for a Coworker

Yesterday was the funeral for one of my coworkers. Technically, an ex-coworker, since she quit her job last year to move back to California and to be with her family. It was an emotional parting, since we knew something was up, but refused to say anything at the time. We didn’t find out what was up until December, when one of my other coworkers (one that knew her from a previous job) called around Christmas. That’s when we found out that she had cancer and was looking for some kind of hospice care. She smoked Menthols like a chimney all the 15 years I knew her (the interior of the computers she used looked as tobacco-coated as her lungs, I suspect), so the diagnosis wasn’t a huge shock. Still, it was still enough of one that it helped me quit smoking after 14 years this January.

I got a call on my day off this past Monday, telling me that she died the previous week. She was in Atlanta, visiting friends when she passed around last Tuesday. She was only 46 when she died… For some that may seem old, but when you’re just hitting 40, its too damn young. We were never that close (even after 16 years, I’ve never been close with any of my coworkers) and she was a pain in my ass sometimes, but she was someone’s daughter, someone’s mother. She left two daughters, one in College and one only 10 years old. They are the ones I feel most for.

For my ex-coworker, her story is done, all the parts of it written that she was capable of, good, bad and indifferent are now finished. Her children though, now must live with the hole she left in their lives.

We don’t know how long we have and must make the best use of it that we can. I don’t always do well in following that, but I try the best I am able.

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