A Bright Light Goes Out

We lost a beloved member of our radio family on the weekend. 

Lesley was 50 and apparently suffered a massive heart attack.  She was always up, always smiling.  She’d see you and depending on your gender, she would shout out “Hi Missy!” or “Hi Mister!” You couldn’t help but feel good around her because she seemed to really like being around…everyone! She remembered your special events, was generous with hugs and doted on the kids of coworkers when they were visiting the station.  She was a gem.

Our bosses handled things very well.  They personally told everyone who needed to know immediately and word spread quickly to the rest of us.  They brought in a grief counsellor for her tight-knit team.  They kept us informed.  They did all they could. It was a very sombre Monday behind the scenes of our 4 radio stations.

I remember an old poem in one of those Jokes for the John books that went something like, when you think you’re all that, put your hand in a bucket of water, pull it out, and the hole that’s left is how much you’d be missed if you died.  It was supposed to mean, don’t go getting too full of yourself.  The older I get the less I like that poem.  I think John Donne had it right. “Each man’s death diminishes me for I am involved in all mankind.”  A sweet person’s life taken too soon hurts the soul and acts as a stark reminder of one’s own mortality.  What I take from that is, live every day because you just don’t know.  Missy, you’ll be missed.