On Monday morning when I woke up, before I even got out of bed I said
to myself, ‘Today’s going to be a GOOD
day!’
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Stuart Smalley who gives
myself Daily Affirmations, but this was Monday, the beginning of a new week,
still the beginning of a new year, and because I’ve had ‘shit’ rolling around
in my head lately, I wanted to start the day and week off on a positive note.
Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.
The first couple of hours of the day were uneventful, until I got the email at work that said, ‘You
OK? Cop cars everywhere out front!’
HUH? WHAT!?!?
Yes I was OK. All was
quiet on my floor.
Because I’m currently on contract for an organization that,
on occasion, has to deal with disgruntled members of the public, I’m on a
secure floor in the building. You can’t
get here without a pass and … all was quiet.
We did, however, receive a companywide email stating that yes
police were in the building, but there was no threat to employees.
A couple of hours later, I found out what was happening.
We lost a co-worker that morning.
She died unexpectedly.
And yes, she was at work, that’s why there was police presence.
Needless to say, the office was in shock and heartbroken.
*I* was in shock. And heartbroken.
By Tuesday, while the shock still hadn't dissipated, the
reality of the situation had set in.
My co-worker was gone.
And I was grieving. And I felt
guilty about it.
The office was in a quiet uproar (how's that for an oxymoron).
My co-workers are people who had worked with
this woman for over 20yrs. She knew
everyone in the office and everyone knew her.
THEY had the right to grieve for her. They ‘knew’ her. Many knew her very well.
I’ve only been there six months.
I didn’t feel I had the ‘right’ to grieve for her.
I didn’t feel right, sitting in my cube crying silently over
a lost co-worker I had only known for six months, yet … there I was, doing
exactly just that.
And here’s why …
When I started in this office, it was VERY clear to me this
was a close knit group of people. Most
had worked together for close to or over 20yrs.
And while most were cordial, I
was, and still am, the outsider.
The cube I ended up in was next to this woman we lost.
I sat next to her, and chatted with her EVERY FREAKIN’ DAY
about whatever happened to be going on in my life at that moment.
Because she was always willing to listen.
She came to my house to look after my dog when I went away
for a weekend in the fall, because my instinct told me I could trust her completely. And because she was who she was, I came home to find the money I had left her still sitting on my table. She would
accept no money for doing so.
She sat on my couch, and we talked. Not work talk, but the personal shit. Yes, I was THAT comfortable with her, I felt
I could tell her ‘things’ and she listened.
And offered advice when I needed it.
She helped me carry the boxes of presents down to the post
office downstairs at Christmastime, when I was sending presents out to The Boy
in BC. She even waited with me in line, holding a box.
She had a HUGE heart, and was willing to help anyone.
She took care of needy families at Christmas. A LOT of families had a much better Christmas because of her.
She was heavily involved in dog rescues in Nova Scotia.
But most importantly, she took me under her wing. She made
me feel welcome, and made me feel like a friend.
And THAT’S why, still three days later, I can’t think of her
without catching my breath, and tears springing to my eyes.
But when I think of some of her co-workers that worked with
her forever, and who were really good friends with her, I feel that guilt behind
the grief.
The guilt of grieving at all.
Like THEIR loss is bigger than mine. Their grief heavier. Because they knew her
longer. Shared more experiences with her.