What a summer it's been. My boss, and mentor, of many years unexpectedly passed away and it has turned my life up side down. I knew she had been battling cancer for the better part of a year but when she returned last fall from a couple of months of intense treatment it didn't seem she wanted to discuss it and it was clear she didn't want to be treated as though she was ill, so I just continued on as things had been before her illness. Partners in crime, my go-to for all things large and small.
When she first died, I was consumed with wanting to know exactly what had happened and how she could have died so suddenly. Did she know she was dying? If so, why didn't she find a way to say goodbye? To offer some guidance about how to move on? I prayed that a card - wrapped in a giant ribbon, the way she always did - would arrive with a perfect note from her. But time, as it always does, has healed those "wounds." Two months later, though, I am still having difficulty accepting her death. There are fleeting moments where my brain can't resolve whether this has all been a dream or not. And the dreams. I've always been prone to dreams of people who I see often, but I've been dreaming of her most nights, always trying to work out where she's been, relieved that she didn't really die after all. She was just so alive.
More than anything, I've been thinking of how special she was to the world. She was only 42 and had a six year old daughter, and I keep thinking how unfair it is that she had so little time but also how much she did with it. I've been dumbfounded by the outpouring from the community over her death. Perfect strangers, who must have no idea how closely we worked together, are still reaching out to me to express their condolences. Most of them remember her graciousness and poise and her smile that could fill up a room. A charitable fund was opened in her honor and it's already raised $150,000, a small fortune that will be bestowed upon the nonprofits in the area she most loved. What I most treasured about her was her desire and ability to nurture talent. I don't think I'd be the same person without her encouragement and guidance. She brought out the little bit of moxie that was hiding in me. She was generous with praise and often gave me more credit than I was due. And she wrote so beautifully that I remember thinking the only thing missing from her obituary was her own wordsmithing.
I can't help but think, if I had only 12 years left what would I make of them? And if I were gone tomorrow, what would people remember of me? I hope that they would remember a kind, compassionate and empathetic person, whose heart beat for others. I've thought a lot about what I learned from this admirable woman and though her gold paperclips and pulled together wardrobe gave us a window into who she was, I want most to embody the way she never worried that letting others shine would diminish her own light. Rest in peace, Leigh. You lived so beautifully.
