estirose

l found out today that we lost a coworker over the weekend. Her name was Rosa.

Rosa had transfered into the call center a little over a year ago from an office that was downsizing. She was one of the sweetest people I've met. I think that the best way to describe her is that she loved people, and she felt for people. She cried when other people couldn't cry, and she wasn't ashamed of it.

Rosa died in her sleep this weekend. She was all of 56.

The strange thing is, on friday, she seemed fine. Allergies, yes, everybody has 'em. But the Rosa I saw on Friday was very much alive. In fact, I think we made jokes about seeing each other next week.

Except, now she'll never be back.

I'm reminded of part of the background of Meg Cabot's "The Mediator" series, where the narrator lost her father years ago to a heart attack. Somewhere in the series, she mentions that she loved saturday morning cartoons, and had declined to jog with her father. Her father went jogging, and died. She mentions thinking of what would have happened if she'd gone jogging with her Dad, but she realizes that past is past.

In the same way... Rosa and I weren't close friends, but we were friends enough. Would Friday had played out differently had I known that she wasn't going to be at her desk on Tuesday, full of family stories, expressing sympathy for a friend who lost a cat, still trying to get over losing her father?

But I couldn't have known. I realize that. Nobody knew. How could we?

Love you, Rosa. Miss you. Rest in peace.

You did good.