Do You Leave the World Better Than You Found It?
Sabrina Willocks passed away.
I got the message via Facebook.
She was a bright light in a sometimes tough world back when
I played Corporate Games.
Soft spoken, introverted, beautiful.
And a fan of mine.
Not my writing, which she didn’t read.
Just a fan of me.
She liked Chris Lowry and told her husband about my
attitude.
My accomplishments, like biking fifteen miles to work every
day, and fifteen miles home after.
Sometimes in the dark.
About my running, and training for 100 mile races and 18
marathons and how I took the time each day to visit with her and the rest of
the team.
He told me so.
Told me she liked her some Chris.
But, like so many relationships formed through work, once
work is gone, it’s tough to stay in touch.
We “liked” each other’s posts on Facebook.
Less frequent as the months turned to years and what was
once our life, spending more time in corporate cubicles than we did with our
families, not counting sleep, we drifted apart.
Which is crazy because sometimes you consider the people you
work with your “family” too.
Especially when that work captures lighting in a bottle and
puts a group together who vibe and get each other, and gel.
They do great things for the business, and in doing so,
sometimes do great things for each other.
We were the Military Dept and we did great things for
soldiers, sailors, Marines and Airmen.
And as I moved up, Sabrina cheered.
Almost all of them did.
But we lost a lot of folks along the way.
Maybe more than average, or so it seemed.
Boot was a two tour vet of Iraq, ten year Army vet and he
put a .45 in his mouth.
Giovanni was on a helicopter tour of Orlando when it crashed
into a house.
Michelle M got boob cancer that spread.
Pete had a heart attack.
So did David.
And Paron.
The list goes on with a few more. At least ten.
And it will grow longer as the years pass, because age
discriminates against no man or woman.
But Sabrina was an unpleasant surprise.
Younger than me by a few years. Mother to two.
And someone I hadn’t spoken with in close to a decade.
It is still sad though.
Knowing someone you knew is now no longer here.
An almost helpless feeling of wanting to ease the grief of
her passing for her family.
When all you can send are thoughts and prayers.
And maybe smile at the memories that flash up.
Her laughter at the ice bucket challenge, if you recall
that.
Her pitching at a dunking booth in the parking lot trying to
send me into the drink.
Her suggestions and questions about work flow and process
and how we could improve.
And her love of family.
Both work and real.
So today, I think you should hug someone close to you.
Maybe give them a little love tap, or squeeze on the butt.
Because someone somewhere can’t anymore.
In a week when the world lost over 12,000 lights, and more
to follow in the days ahead, what is one more?
Especially when it’s just part of the cycle, and no one is
getting out of here alive.
Today, let’s squeeze butts and smile at strangers and raise
our glasses to the warriors headed to Valhalla before us. (even if she didn’t
die in battle, the All Father makes exceptions for exceptional people)
We used to say something every single day back in the corporate
world.
Because my team had sailors, and soldiers and Marines and
Airmen on it.
Even a single Coastie, who literally lived up to every
stereotype.
I would ask the question, “Military, are we United?”
And they would say “Hooah” or “Hooyah” depending.
The memory of someone I once knew reminds me of how I can do
better at making us United.
All of us, doing our very best to make our world, or
situations better for everyone.
Get After It.
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