My friend, Sheila

Monday, April 28, 2008

I'm not sure when, exactly, we became friends. I'm guessing that her desk is probably about 30 feet from mine. We started taking our breaks together late last summer.

Over the course of the past several months, we have become close. We share our deepest thoughts, our concerns, laughter and tears. We talk about our husbands, children, grandchildren, step-children, sisters, friends, parents, in-laws, out-laws, cooking and our work. We consider our friendship therapy.

Every once in a while she would say, "Did I ever tell you about the time...." and off she'd go on another wonderful story.

We laughed when we exchanged Starbucks gift cards at Christmas time. A couple times, she left a tall cafe mocha on my desk with a note that said, "Happy Monday!" I'm still carrying in my wallet the gift card she gave me for my birthday. The one time we were able to get away for lunch together, she insisted on paying for mine. There was no arguing with her.

She was diagnosed with Stage III, small-cell, inoperable lung cancer on March 25th. Today she died, presumably of heart failure. She had only had three chemo treatments, but was hopeful. She was only 48 years old...four months older than me.

I was doing OK at work until one of her coworkers started packing up her personal belongings from her desk: her pictures, her lunch tote, her giant, insulated water mug. The neon numbers still glowed on her calculator. A note pad and pen lay by her phone as if she'd only stepped away. It was presumed she'd be back when she left to begin treatment. I stood there numb, obviously in the way of the job to be done, surveying the objects on her desk until the hot tears began to sting my face, once again.

What do I do now?

I can't bring her a Carmel Frapuccino, (her Starbucks drink of choice). I'll never get to reciprocate on lunch. I can't mail her the cards I was already beginning to stock-pile to send her while she would go through chemo and radiation. There will be no closure. Although she and her husband moved here 18 years ago, her visitation and funeral will be held in Louisiana. We are all pretty devastated here at work. It's surreal.

I've lost a friend. A relationship that at first was casual and polite, that grew to a bond that I'll cherish forever.

I can't tell you how much I'll miss her and I haven't even really known her that long. My heart breaks for her family. Having been the family of one who has passed on, I can tell you that the pain is seemingly unbearable for a long, long time. Please lift "Sheila's family" in your prayers.