The world was a brighter place.
364 Days ago, a wedding was held, bags were packed for vacations, for honeymoons, for business trips. Plans were made. The future stretched out in front of the people on Flight 5191, and it was long.
But sometimes things don't work out. I've spent the last year trying to consider that no matter what happened to me, nothing in my life was that bad. And that I needed to appreciate time and people as though I might never have them again. Because sometimes - like 364 days ago - you think you have things that you really don't.
364 Days ago, a wedding was held, bags were packed for vacations, for honeymoons, for business trips. Plans were made. The future stretched out in front of the people on Flight 5191, and it was long.
But sometimes things don't work out. I've spent the last year trying to consider that no matter what happened to me, nothing in my life was that bad. And that I needed to appreciate time and people as though I might never have them again. Because sometimes - like 364 days ago - you think you have things that you really don't.
My friends and former colleagues at Galls bound together and have found a way to remember their dead. To honor our friend Bobby they sent me this picture and a note:
Gwen suggested we do something to remember him by, something special by us as a team. Hal (we call him Pappy) said "We should retire his cubicle. Nobody else can use his desk! Sorta like they do in the pro’s” to which most of us laughed because….well you just can’t do that at a corporation. A couple of days later Jennifer brought up the idea again but with a twist. She suggested we make a jersey with his name, favorite team, and put his cubicle number on it as a way to remember him. From there we went about the process of getting approval to retire his cubicle number complete with a small ceremony to commemorate the event. With the help of many other contributors the people you see pictured (left to right: Porter, Jennifer, Hal, Gwen, Brian) accomplished the task of preserving the memory our friend Bobby Meaux. "
You will have to excuse me if for the next few days, my posts aren't lighthearted and cheery. Although Bobby would not have wanted me to be a weeping mess I'm finding it harder and harder to push my sadness back out of my heart.
So let me just say this.
Bobby I miss you, man.
And somebody should tell your mom she did a really good job. You were truly one of the best people I ever knew.
1 comments:
Oh Gidge. I've got a lump in my throat from looking at that jersey photo, from thinking about how they retired his cubicle number, from the football shaped headstone. When I first started reading your blog, he had just passed away. He sounds like a pretty terrific guy. Take care, hon.
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