|DIARY OF AN URBAN MILKMAID|
|I get to try and wrap my head around the concept of death again.
We've lost another one of our co-workers. Her name was Lydia. She was a fairly brittle diabetic - prone to reactions and other problems. I don't know how old she was, but she wasn't any older than me, I'll wager. Apparently, she had a stroke on Friday, and passed away this afternoon...
Lydia and I weren't very close, but I saw her every day at work. We'd gather in a little huddle at Rhonda's annual Labor Day party. Oh, and we co-chaired the infamous office tea party (where all the ladies had to wear hats) and we co-chaired the office "beatnik, poetry-reading luncheon" as well.
She was a "low talker", like that woman on Seinfeld. I could never hear an entire sentence, no matter how hard I tried.
She always dated unattainable men. Her boyfriend for the many years, was a one-eyed Iranian, who weighed about 400 pounds. They had an unfortunate romance. The problem was, he was an Orthodox Jew, and she refused to convert. They broke up, and she began dating a married guy from our factory. They've carried on, hot and heavy for months - completely unaware of us, the on-looking gossipers. Ahhh. At least she died happily sexually fulfilled.
It's difficult to grasp seeing somebody one day, and the next day they no longer exist. I just managed to get past Irene's death - to stop trying to figure that one out, and now this.
Well, I suppose, if my philosophy is true, Lydia has already unpacked and settled into her "afterlife". She's not sad. She can eat all the candy she wants now. She doesn't have to take medications. And she understands all the mysteries of life and death.
|Buh Bye! |
October 05, 2008
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One Last Bitchfest for the Road
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I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
|Marriage is love.|