A friend and former co-worker passed away last week.
Her name was Stephanie. She was an important part of my story when I worked at the newspaper in Columbia City.
We started within weeks of each other and spent 17 years working together. Many life milestones happened along the way; She got married, we both had kids and raised our families. We were roughly the same age and went through a lot of adulting firsts together from our mid-twentys through our early fortys.
She had a bubbly personality and was incredibly likeable. She had the amazing gift of being able to instantly recall something personal about everyone she knew, and she knew a lot of people. She was also frustrating. She ignored deadlines, was forgetful and needed constant validation.
I guess it was all part of her charm.
Once we stopped working together, I can’t say I spent much time wondering how she was doing. I rarely saw her, but every time I did it was like no time had passed. We’d catch up, laugh about the good old days and go about our merry way.
It wasn’t until her passing that it really hit me how important she had been.
As her service was approaching, I wavered on whether to go or not. We hadn’t worked together since 2009. I hadn’t seen her in years and didn’t know her family except through the stories she told years ago.
Go.
Always go.
I seem to learn this lesson repeatedly.
I’m a lucky person. The only immediate family member I have lost is my dad. During his viewing, I was introduced to many people each of whom shared heartwarming stories. Those stories are treasured gifts. My father didn’t share much about himself. I learned as much about him that day as I had my entire life.
These things aren’t for the deceased, they are for the living. The entire funeral process is one long goodbye to loved ones lost. It’s a necessary part of the grieving process. So I went to the viewing to share stories about Stephanie with her family.
I introduced myself to each family member. Each of them told me they knew who I was. One of her daughters, upon seeing me, left another conversation to join mine.
I shared stories with each of them. It was cathartic for all of us.
Her oldest daughter told me that her mom loved me. She considered me to be family and would have been so excited that I came.
Right then I realized that I felt the same. They knew me through the mundane stories Stephanie told back in the day. My family knew Stephanie the same way.
Looking back, I have always talked about how important my work family is. We spend more of our waking hours together at work than we do with our actual family. We know each others’ strengths and flaws like only family does. It isn’t a stretch to call the people I work with family. I’ve been fortunate throughout my career to feel that way at each stop.
I know that I will likely forget the lesson that I learned last week. The next time a co-worker/family member passes away, I’ll have the same doubts about whether I should go or not.
I hope I come to the same conclusion.
Go.
Always go.
dougb@news-banner.com
