Overcome

This morning I woke up blue. I was blue from something Jonathan shared with me last night. I was blue because I hate winter and long days and cold--yes, even in California. No amount of caffeine or running or reading or sleeping can bust the mood.

So I walked into the Y for Benji's basketball game, and went to deposit Theo in childcare so he would not have to sit in the bleachers trying to read Percy Jackson. There on the wall was a picture of one of my favorite childcare ladies. Her name is Harriet. I have known her since Benji was born. She has loved my boys and appreciated them and loved me and been a wonderful presence at that Y.

When she asks me for money for the Y, I always give. She was older than the rest of the childcare people. I could tell she did the job simply because she loves kids. She noticed them, delighted in them, loved them. And I loved her.

Well, she died.

I hadn't been at the Y for awhile because I have been running. It didn't seem like long. But there was a picture of her on the wall, with a note that said, "Rest in Peace."

I felt sick. I felt sad. I felt heartbroken. I didn't get to say, "Thank you." I didn't get to tell her that I want to be like her when I am older. I will want to work in childcare to be around children, too. I didn't get to tell her how much I appreciated her smile and her cheerfulness and seeing her. She made me feel like part of that community.

And now she is gone. I took a month off and she is dead.

I ran to Ricardo, my favorite swim coach to find out what happened. He said she died suddenly. She had leukemia, but no one really knew how badly because she did not talk about it. Her body just gave out, and they found her alone in her condo. Ricardo said the day before she died she had gone around hugging everyone, as if somehow she knew.

Her turquoise Y shirt was laid out to go to work.

I am devastated by her loss.

She was not a major person in my life. She was peripheral. But so wonderful, so cheerful, and yes, so important. I stood at the desk at the Y with tears streaming down my face. I saw another mother crying, too.

I miss you, Harriet.

I can't believe you are gone.