therealljidol Exhibit A-Week 7 "Honey Badger Don't Care".
Here I sit in my recliner, keyboard in my lap. I had planned on going to work and going through the motions of a typical day, helping people in their struggles, trying to do the best I can to manage the various things that comprise the issues of a small office.
The alarm went off. I came downstairs, turned on the coffee maker, fed the dogs, let them out for their morning business. I rescued a poor defenseless pen from the lethal jaws of my cat who had trapped it in the bathtub.
Cup in hand I came in to my computer room, and switched on the machine. As the email downloaded I checked my bank accounts to make sure bills had cleared. Seeing that all things were well I switched over to my mail, expecting the usual spam, and posts from various email lists. But at the top of my list of email was a note that brought all things to an abrupt halt.
“Hi. Just to tell you Nic has passed away. I’ll write more later”.
At that point the world seemed to momentarily lurch. The problems of the office and my consumers seemed not to matter.
My friend is gone.
Only two weeks ago we were chatting on Skype. Only two weeks ago Nic was talking about how wonderful life was. He was in love. He was to marry his partner, Johan, next year. He was making sure I was saving money so that I could fly to France to join in the celebration. Nic wanted me to see his beautiful new home. He wanted to make sure he could take a picture of me under the sign of the village that bears my name “Nancy”. So much joy. So many plans.
Nick’s ex-wife, Pauline, is one of my dearest friends. I cannot be there to help her. Her loss is greater than mine. They shared a life together. And after their marriage ended they were still each other’s best friend. I want to hug her. I want to cry with her. I want to say good bye with her. There is a very large ocean between us which makes it impossible to do anything but cry alone, crying my own ocean of tears.
A week ago I learned that Nic was very ill. It was sudden. As we all do, we hope that things will miraculously change, that the diagnosis is wrong. Our coping with what deep down we know is the worst of news is to hold on to any thread of hope we can, even though we know that thread is fraying rapidly.
That thread broke this morning.
I should care about what is happening at work. I should care that people will have to wait to talk to me until tomorrow. I should care…I should care…
But I don’t. I only care that my friend is gone. I only care that my dear friend is hurting and I can’t help her. I care that my heart is breaking.
Right now my world is a small sphere of grief and sadness. That’s the extent of my caring for the moment and it has to be enough.
a wonderful tribute to a wonderful friend
The alarm went off. I came downstairs, turned on the coffee maker, fed the dogs, let them out for their morning business. I rescued a poor defenseless pen from the lethal jaws of my cat who had trapped it in the bathtub.
Cup in hand I came in to my computer room, and switched on the machine. As the email downloaded I checked my bank accounts to make sure bills had cleared. Seeing that all things were well I switched over to my mail, expecting the usual spam, and posts from various email lists. But at the top of my list of email was a note that brought all things to an abrupt halt.
“Hi. Just to tell you Nic has passed away. I’ll write more later”.
At that point the world seemed to momentarily lurch. The problems of the office and my consumers seemed not to matter.
My friend is gone.
Only two weeks ago we were chatting on Skype. Only two weeks ago Nic was talking about how wonderful life was. He was in love. He was to marry his partner, Johan, next year. He was making sure I was saving money so that I could fly to France to join in the celebration. Nic wanted me to see his beautiful new home. He wanted to make sure he could take a picture of me under the sign of the village that bears my name “Nancy”. So much joy. So many plans.
Nick’s ex-wife, Pauline, is one of my dearest friends. I cannot be there to help her. Her loss is greater than mine. They shared a life together. And after their marriage ended they were still each other’s best friend. I want to hug her. I want to cry with her. I want to say good bye with her. There is a very large ocean between us which makes it impossible to do anything but cry alone, crying my own ocean of tears.
A week ago I learned that Nic was very ill. It was sudden. As we all do, we hope that things will miraculously change, that the diagnosis is wrong. Our coping with what deep down we know is the worst of news is to hold on to any thread of hope we can, even though we know that thread is fraying rapidly.
That thread broke this morning.
I should care about what is happening at work. I should care that people will have to wait to talk to me until tomorrow. I should care…I should care…
But I don’t. I only care that my friend is gone. I only care that my dear friend is hurting and I can’t help her. I care that my heart is breaking.
Right now my world is a small sphere of grief and sadness. That’s the extent of my caring for the moment and it has to be enough.
a wonderful tribute to a wonderful friend