An important member of the SRN family has lost her battle with cancer. And we have lost a friend and colleague.
We are a fairly small company, a handful people and a curious cat. We become friends, good friends. We share photos of family, and laugh at each others bad jokes. We swap recipes, favorite web sites and holiday stories. We worry about the weather 2,000 miles away from home and sing happy birthday (off tune) over the phone to each other. We fix hurt feelings, have home remedies for sunburns, wind burns, long work days. We laugh a lot.
And we shared this journey with Mary and her family. She was well and full of plans in September. Knee surgery was coming up after the first of the year, so in typical Mary Anderson fashion, she was getting all her ducks in a row. Lists made, things sorted, items checked off. The woman was wonder woman of organization. Not a dull pencil in her box, not a detail overlooked.
In January, when the blood work for knee surgery was done, it was a shock to everyone when it came back and the C word was connected to it. How could that be? Everything was fine 4 months prior?
Mary took this on, like everything else in her life, head on full force ahead. She made lists, she baked meals and froze meals for her family, she wrote, she organized, and she geared up. And she fought—a good fight, and a courageous battle. She posted her progress, we became familiar with her treatment, we looked each day to see how she was doing, we all prayed, lit candles, sent cards and wrote notes. And sometimes we held our breath.
Mary Anderson did not win her battle, but neither did she lose. On June 22 she entered Hospice care. She said her good byes on her terms. And on June 28 she died, holding the hand of her husband, her best friend and soul mate, Andy.
My heart aches for the loss of such a dear person. And I miss the quick (and not so quick) chats, the laughing, the plans for a Seattle retreat.
What I have not lost and will hold on to forever is the lesson in love, compassion and respect one person can generate. Like a stone tossed into a pond, it continues to ripple out. I hope to pass this lesson on, to the person at the other end of the ringing phone, to my colleagues, to my family, and to you.
Nan
