I'm hurting.
A week ago a colleague and good friend died. Yesterday afternoon I attended her memorial service. No doubt she was loved by a great many people.
If you're wondering about the particulars, her name was Sherry. She had two children and five grandchildren. She was diagnosed with lung cancer in early July. In my conversations with her since that time, Sherry was determined she would beat the illness despite the grim prognosis by the medical professionals.
And within the span of two days last week I received word that she was back in the hospital, not doing well. The next news was of her death.
“How old?” you wonder. Only 60.
To me, that's just not very old.
And during the last few days I also have come to the realization that I am entering a new phase of my life. One that I didn't expect.
I am now reaching an age and a point in my life where people close to me will die. With regularity.
Before now, I always equated death of contemporaries and friends to be the realm of my parents. And 20 to 25 years ago, the latest news of family friends who passed away was delivered by grandparents.
But this situation is different. Sherry and I worked in the same department. We fought the same professional battles. And while there was a difference in our ages (I will turn 42 this fall), at work we were equals in many ways.
Sigh. And so it begins.
As noted above, I wasn't expecting this to hit me so hard, particularly right now. But as I get older, I have to face the inevitable. I will be saying many more goodbyes in the coming years. And a lot of them are going to hurt, just as this one does.
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