Ann

A friend of mine died yesterday. We weren’t super close, but we worked together every day from 2000 to 2007 and got to know each other fairly well. She was 13 years older than me, and when we first met she lived a life very different from mine, with a husband and two kids outside of Stockholm. Now I am a family man myself, so ironically we probably would have had more in common now.

But I left the company two years ago, then she did the same last year, so we lost touch. I last saw her in July at a friend’s birthday party. She had just quit her new job, too, and was unemployed, worried and searching for a foothold. Soon after that she got sick.

She gave me a very nice professional compliment in an e-mail once, and I made a point of printing a hardcopy of it when I quit. On my part, I teased her for being nervous about shifting lanes when driving to our new offices when the company moved. She didn’t enjoy driving.

Just a few days ago, when the Swedish winter chose to momentarily relax its grip, I took my motorcycle out for its first spin of the year. I remember thinking I should drive out and visit Ann when it gets a little warmer. Not that I really know what to say to someone who is terminally ill, but I don’t want to be somebody who lets down a friend just to avoid feeling uncomfortable.

I should have done it right away.