My dear friend, and previous supervisor passed away rather suddenly in the middle of May. This man was more than a friend, and believe me when I say- 'it wasn't like that'. I began to work for him when my first marriage blew up. When my x husband cut off the bank accounts and the credit cards and I scrambled to find my own income after staying at home for far too long to care for our boys. This man did not hire me, but I was hired to work for him. I spent the entire first week of my employment hearing stories about him and his demeanor, and escapades. I thought, what did I get myself into?? And then I met him. He said, "Aren't you gonna stand up and meet your supervisor??' And I seriously thought I was in trouble. And then he laughed. And I spent the next 7 years working for this guy. People within the organization where we worked thought we were an item. He was old enough to be my father, and the speculation would make me so angry. No one understood our relationship. They never would. He was amazing. Supportive. Honest. He always told me things would work out. He was there through my divorce, custody crap, fights with the x, issues with the boys, my second marriage, and the loss of folks that I thought were friends that blamed me for divorce and thought I was the devil. He was my cheerleader, my counselor, my father-figure, my friend, my colleague, my hero, my constant. When the twins came I left him with a heavy heart. But I could not afford the childcare, so I made myself walk out the door. I worked part-time for him for a while, but when Sgt Dad left for his first tour overseas, I had to let go. But this guy, he wouldn't let me. He came over and cleaned the dead bunny rabbit from the road in front of my house so #2 son wouldn't see it and be heartbroken. He installed the security bar on my sliding glass door so mini-man wouldn't walk off when I was distracted. He installed a drive-way alarm because he didn't like me being alone with the kids while Sgt. Dad was overseas. He called, he listened, he counseled, he cared, he was there, he was
constant, and never ever ever judgmental. And then he helped me find another job when I was ready to come back to work. And although I didn't work for him, we did work together. And we laughed. We had fun. We made fun. No one understood. We laughed about the "mountain" (the office toilet). We laughed about old stories from the time we worked together before, and the people we knew. He continued to be the constant. The cheerleader, the supporter.And then he got sick. It happened so fast. Sort of. He apparently didn't really share the reality of his illness. He was sick, and then, he was gone. Just gone. Empty desk, empty chair, empty heart. I still cry and it's been almost 2 months. For such a vivacious, charismatic person to just be ... gone. There is such a void in my life. I don't even think these words that I have written suffice. I can not even express it all right now. He is just gone, and his words remain.... in emails, in text messages, in reports at work that I just looked at today in an effort to archive them. There I saw his handwriting. But.... he's gone....
What's worse?? My dear friend, my coworker, my partner in crime.... she followed him... a week and some days later. And today I looked at her signature, and her words, and numbers, and notes on those same reports that I'm attempting to archive. There they were glaring at me. My BFF, my friend. She found she had lung cancer almost two years ago. She called me that day, and I promptly threw my cigarettes in the trash and never had another one. We did so many silly things together. Mostly we talked at each other though. Complained about life and people at each other. Each one of us never really giving any superlative advice to the other about how to handle said complaints, but just being there, listening, or reading. We liked to text and im each other a lot. Hell, if it wasn't for her, I'd probably never have gotten on fb. She would call me her other child. She would always make me forget what I was pissed about in the first place. She'd curse repeatedly and exclaim 'fuck-em' in her NY Long Island accent, and I would go along because she was right. She was no-nonsense and said exactly what she thought, and I admired her, except for the part where she never knew how to say no. I realized her bark was bigger than her bite at some point, but I loved her anyway and I encouraged her to say no more often. She didn't. She continued to care for her grown children, and then her grandchildren as if she had all the time and energy in the world. But she didn't. She wouldn't stand up. She worried about those kids so much, all the time. And I got mad. I got mad that she didn't put herself first. I got angry with the parts of her family that seemed to walk on her while she fought the hardest fight of her life. And I got lost. I got bombarded by my own challenges, and I became weak, and I wasn't there with her towards the end because I was too weak to fight my own fight and too weak to watch her lose her fight. And then... she was gone. And I couldn't tell her how much I loved her. I couldn't tell her how much I admired her spirit. I couldn't hear her call anyone a fucktard anymore. She was just gone. And I felt guilt because I hadn't been the person she needed me to be at the end. I was so busy struggling in my own mind with my own demons, and fears, and issues in my own home I couldn't see. I didn't realize. I didn't know how bad it was. Until our bossman passed, and I called her to tell her he was gone. She was so tired. She told me so that day. She said she was so tired, and she didn't want to fight anymore. That she had been so sick, and it was no way for a person to live, and she was done. And I knew. I knew she was done. And I begged her to give me more time.... and she did... 13 days from my first loss... I lost her too. It was like a punch in the gut, and even more so because I felt like I had let her down even though she always told me she understand and she was never angry with me. I should have laid there with her in her hospital bed so we could laugh about all the stupid things we did. But I didn't. I couldn't. It hurt so much to watch her slip away. I just couldn't do it. And now here I am feeling like shit, and there's nothing.... nothing I can do to change what I did or didn't do.
And I guess I'm writing all of this because I had hoped it would bring some catharsis. Some kind of end to all of this pain that is is just eating me up inside. I miss them so damn much. And they both were in my office today... in words... in random old reports on my desk. Staring at me. Making me feel too much. Making me remember all the things. Making this day so damn weird....
