Sigh.

When I am at work, I tend to be in my own little bubble.   Two of my best friends work on the same floor, argueably within shouting distance from my desk, yet I only see either of them once every few weeks at work, if that.   So it was not surprising that I hadn't noticed that my coworker Maria, who sits next to my old boss, had been missing longer and longer stretches of work.

Around October, we had an issue with one of our larger customer contracts, and I had to go over and get her feedback on rejecting the proposed request from them.  As usual, she was a knowledgable, calm, source of information,and quickly calmed me down and confirmed that we should reject.  I complimented her on her perfect hair.  Asked if she had recently got a haircut, because it looked salon done.   She just responded that no, she hadnt had her hair cut in about a month or so.

A bit later, I again complimented her hair, and she this time made a comment that her teenage daughter thought she spent too much time fretting over her hair.  Another time, I complimented how she always had such cute hair, and this time she just looked at me, perhaps annoyed?, and thanked me.

I went to the Glitter Sale at Goodwill in November, with another co-worker (work mom) Carolyn.  I commented on the fact that Maria always has perfect hair.  She mentioned that she had noticed it to, but did I think maybe it was a wig?  No one could have that perfect of hair.   It hadn't even dawned on me.

On January 3, after the holidays, the guy who sits next to me commented that he had just seen Maria, and that she had cut off all of her hair into a tight crop, and it was all grey!  Did I know, was she sick or something?  All of my comments about her hair, and all of my overly loud comments to smoking coworkers about cancer sprang to mind, as I rather sickly said that no, I hadn't heard anything like that.

Today we got an email that I have been sadly hoping that we would not get - that her treatment is not going well, and that she has now gone out on medical leave.  Further, the email continued, she is in acute pain, and would most likely not be coming back.

Maria has two teenagers and is married.  As those of you who know this blog exists know - I lost my dad when I was 20, and of course, just as now, my emotional maturity was lagging a few years.  I have a complete empathy for anyone who loses a parent at a young age.  More so even than parents who lose their children.   And so, I cannot help but feel for these two kids, who will most likely lose their mother before they graduate high school, and who will never be able to share any of lifes milestones with her.    I feel for their acute sense of a gap - at graduations, weddings, children's births, birthdays, holidays, and eventually in their own memories when they can no longer remember her face, except in random dreams that they will have, but then wake up from, and it scatters like a cloud. 

So, this news has brought me to a place that generally lays dormant, unless I am watching a movie with this type of storyline (I avoid them) or come into contact with it in the lives that surround me.   I usually do not react empathetically to stories of people dying - people die, it is what we all do.  My mom told me this weekend about a bunch of her friends who have cancer, some of her friends parents who have died, but none of that really garners a reaction.

However, this one has had me in tears off and on all afternoon. This event will kill their innocence.  My friend Brian and I used to discuss in college that our friends had no perspective.  That we had a problem watching 'Party of 5' because we understood too acutely that when someone close to you dies, you immediately lose your sense of innocence and sense of being protected from the world.  In the normal course of life, people lose this when they get older and lose a job, buy a house, or have children.  Losing a pet doesn't quite prepare you for losing a family member or friend.

  And I truely hope that her children do not take this experience and end up scarred and jaded, cynical adults, as it is so so easy to turn into that, when you go through this type of experience.   It sometimes seems easier to drop out rather than to embrace those around you, to support you, and it is also easy to begin to take advantage of those same people's kindess and caring.  I hope they can navigate to avoid that in their grief.

It is also not lost on me that my coworker will no longer be taking up the space over in that row.  I think of all of my coworkers as peers, as being the same age and experience as me.  Work is similar to highschool, and we exist within the confines of the office.  I do not see them as mothers or fathers, just as my coworkers.  (the exception is work mom, who spends so much time making sure that I don't do stupid things that are expected of a teenager, that I cannot ignore the fact that she could, in fact, be my mom)  It is somewhat a shock to my system to realize that I am reaching an age (or position in my career?) where my peers now get cancer.    Perhaps, by focusing my empathy on the children, I am avoiding acknowledging that uncomfortable fact.

So, I am trying to instead take a silver lining and rethink about what is important to me, and remind myself it is probably not my job. And also remind myself, that while I generally go to the office and give 100% commitment, others have other commitments, and perhaps I should be easier on them when they are not able to do the same.  It is definately something to think about.