I wanted to share this article about Davie written by a special friend who has endeared herself to me over the past several weeks. Kimberly Perkinson Cooley Herald-News Laugh Lines Nov. 2 This year has been full of changes for me, and if you know me, you know I do not “cotton” to change. I am a creature of habit. I like my things in their places (including Thing 1 and Thing 2). I like dependable, consistent, reliable behavior. I have lots of acquaintances but few close friends, mostly because I’d rather go without than be disappointed in someone’s actions. I absolutely hate surprises. My disdain for balloons is immeasurable simply because you never know when they’re going to pop. My children learned very early on never to put the words “boo” and “Mom” together in a sentence. I am jumpy and nervous – I yearn for calm and quiet. I am not saying my feelings are normal, but I own them. It is just the way I am made. I resist change and have little tolerance for the unexpected. This year has been anything but normal and changes have come in herds. The biggest (and hardest) change started late in May. One of my co-workers was having health issues. We shall call him D. D was a fit man, the same age as my husband. He never smoked, never drank. He ran or biked every day. He and his wife raised three children and have welcomed five grandsons, the most recent one born this summer. D was the hardest working person I’ve ever known. His client service skills were impeccable. Everyone liked D, and in eight years of working with him, I never heard him utter a negative word. Not once. And we worked closely together. His office was next to mine. Heck, his office is still next to mine. D just isn’t in it. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on D, and he found his tumor quite literally with his hand. One morning, he felt an odd lump. He made a doctor’s appointment on a Tuesday, had a CT scan on a Wednesday, and on Thursday, he was in surgery. The lump was an extensive mass. The surgeon removed his spleen and one kidney. After pathology reports confirmed cancer, he opted out of treatment and decided to let nature run its course. The cancer was an aggressive type and treatment could only give him a year or so extension on life. He didn’t relish the idea of lingering in a weakened state so he faced his fate with courage like I have never witnessed before, nor will I probably ever see again. No one in the office knew the extent of his illness except for me and the partner to whom D and I both report. I helped monitor his emails when he was too sick to come to work, just to be sure he didn’t drop the ball on anything. And he didn’t. Remarkably, the man was a beast and the work he turned out was top-notch. He didn’t need my help at all. In a business-like manner, he told us he planned to work through December. He said he couldn’t promise anything after that. His wife, a teacher in Chattanooga, took a year’s absence to be with him when he needed her. That time came much sooner than any of us anticipated. The mass grew quickly, and he had surgery early in October to remove as much of the mass as possible to make him more comfortable. We expected him to be out a few days, instead, he never returned. My boss visited with him the Friday before he passed. They had a long visit and D was ready to go. He had dwindled down to about 100 pounds, and he said he was only causing his family and friends pain by lingering. They joked about biking together again, and then they talked seriously about how our firm could help his family after he was gone. He gave my boss a list of pending items that needed to be addressed for some of our clients before the end of the year. Even on his death bed, the man was a beast. He passed away the next Tuesday, October 21, my wedding anniversary. Last year around this time, he pointed out three trees in our back parking lot at work. He remarked how vivid the colors were. I had never noticed the three trees before. Now, they’re all I see when I pull in each morning. I emailed his wife this week and told her the story about the three trees, how one of my co-workers took a picture of them and emailed it to both of us. I even put the picture on our firm’s Facebook page last year. She replied that she remembered him talking about the trees and that he always loved fall because of the never-ending surprise that each day brought. She said he marveled that the landscape changed daily, and colors would be dull one day and brilliant the next. She said he planted a crepe myrtle tree for her a few years ago, and suddenly, right after he died, the tree turned the brightest shade of orange. It had never done that before. She said for a split second, she started to take a picture of it to text to him, as if he were out of town on a business trip. Then she remembered D was gone. She told me that was the hardest part about his death – not being able to share the small things that delighted her each day. Somewhere in this year of change, there are big lessons for me. I know that. In D’s passing, there are even bigger lessons…lessons beyond noticing the changing colors of our firm’s foliage. I suspect the lessons will involve gratitude and acceptance – especially of change. But right now I am still struggling with a bruised heart and an empty office next to mine. For now, I’m trying to think of what D would do. He would want us to marvel at today’s landscape and be thankful for the view in front of us right now. The world’s colors and scenery change swiftly. We mustn’t take one moment of it for granted.
Posted on: Thu, 06 Nov 2014 13:18:51 +0000
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