For some reason, today a clip of nostalgia ran through my brain about a friend from Huthwaite who died while I was working there. She was so young - 28 to be exact. She had everything going for her: a great job, a great husband, a fabulous vintage condo in Chicago (which I visited on one of my business trips), a stellar athletic figure, and a sweet spirit--the sweet spirit being on the top of her charts. I remember wanting to be more like her. She was so humble and pure. She rarely talked about anyone, and when she did it was done tactfully with little focus on frustration vents and more on a genuine approach to strategic process improvement.
I am thinking about her today and the way her presence on earth made an impact on my life, and others who surrounded her.
She died in July of 2006 in a head on car crash incident when a drunk driver collided into her as he was driving on the wrong side of the highway.
I remember going to work that day and not being able to wait to get all the projects off my plate that I'd be transitioning to her. I was excited to talk to her and excited she had decided to come back to Huthwaite, after she left earlier that year. Sounds a little bit like me (unfortunately). She and I were going to have a long conversation that day to go over the Bank of America account and the Ernst & Young account and Greg's spreadsheet and what needed to be updated and when, etc. Little did I know, her parents were planning her funeral while I was planning my relief of stressful responsiblities I had been longing to get off my plate for that long week of her absence on vacation.
I can't even begin to tell you how awful that day was. When I walked into the office and someone told me the news it was like my mind had shifted into a black hole where an abyss of unanswered questions would brew for hours. "Why did God have to take her? Why now? What did she do to deserve this? How come it wasn't me? Why didn't her sister or the dog who were in the car die too? How am I going to get along, or cope, or be able to function?"
The president met with us that morning and told us we could have the day off. I remember as he spoke I burst into tears in front of the entire group -- my heart, shattered from the events. My colleague Mark and I stayed in the conference room for another 1/2 hour or so just staring into space, and at the wall, not even sure how to process what we had just learned.
After we figured out how to nudge our limbs into movement, the majority of us spent the morning at Starbucks talking and trying to cheer each other up because we were too devastated to concentrate. My email box was filled with her name all over it, "When is Shanna coming back? When Shanna returns, she'll be able to handle that for you. Shanna will be your new point of contact," etc...
I could barely breathe. I was heartbroken and torn and confused and all I could think about was Shanna's sweet freckles that surrounded her bright face and bobbed-cut hairdo--a single charm and light hanging on a dark and toxic mess of a corporation.
Some things we will never understand and never know why God chooses to do them. I leave you with a simple quote that is designed into the plaque we created for her:
Some people, sweet and attractive, and strong and healthy, happen to die young. They are masters in disguise teaching us about impermanence.
-The Dalai Lama
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