bad news on a co-worker, friend...
Oct. 23rd, 2006 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
slipstreamsurfrSeveral here already know part of this..
A friend and co-worker went down with a heart attack mid last week.
She never woke up after it.
The doctors ran some more tests over the weekend.
We found out this morning that they all came back negative.
She's brain dead.
The family has to decide now if they will turn off life support.
This is difficult for me. For she was one of the great lights of our company. She was always there, bright, fun, energetic. Ready to pull us all out of whatever was ailing us that particular day. Now her own light is barely a glimmer. Things like this never make any sense. She was my age, 40, in good health. She did the things that everyone says you should do in order to live a long, productive life. She won't.
I'll never meet her at the coffee pot for the second cup in the mornings, laughing about whatever user that she or I have had to deal with lately. I'll never see that light in her eyes when we talk about the fun things we were doing, planning...
All I have are 7 years worth of memories, of working alongside her. 7 years of her laughter and smiles. Of how she was, of who she was. At least I'll have those.
She was too young.
She was good for us all.
Now, she is gone...
A friend and co-worker went down with a heart attack mid last week.
She never woke up after it.
The doctors ran some more tests over the weekend.
We found out this morning that they all came back negative.
She's brain dead.
The family has to decide now if they will turn off life support.
This is difficult for me. For she was one of the great lights of our company. She was always there, bright, fun, energetic. Ready to pull us all out of whatever was ailing us that particular day. Now her own light is barely a glimmer. Things like this never make any sense. She was my age, 40, in good health. She did the things that everyone says you should do in order to live a long, productive life. She won't.
I'll never meet her at the coffee pot for the second cup in the mornings, laughing about whatever user that she or I have had to deal with lately. I'll never see that light in her eyes when we talk about the fun things we were doing, planning...
All I have are 7 years worth of memories, of working alongside her. 7 years of her laughter and smiles. Of how she was, of who she was. At least I'll have those.
She was too young.
She was good for us all.
Now, she is gone...
