Okay, so this isn't a book related blog. Not exactly, although I did read Looking for Alaska by John Green last week (review later). It's a great, or horrible depending on your take on things, book to read when you're sick and supposed to be at a funeral. Needless to say a sad book full of questions was a bit to close to home for me, but I cried a lot and that always helps.
So I got home from a friend and coworkers funeral about an hour ago. Yes, I also just said I had a funeral to go to last week. Apparently it was a, well I can't see it as a murder suicide exactly, accident suicide more likely, at least to me.
Alan's wife, Barbara, made the most amazing cookies ever. Seriously, holidays (and random days) when I'd get to work and Alan would say, "Barbara made cookies. Help yourself; they're in the back." Those were the best days. I never got to meet her, that I recall, but had numerous chats on the phone with her. Usually Alan was out for a smoke break (I told him I'd help him quit many times, but oh well.) and she was just calling to talk about whatever. She was the type of person that when you talked to her you heard the laugh in her voice even if you didn't see her smile. And she had to be amazing to put up with Alan.
Don't get me wrong, I loved working with Alan; he was a great guy, but... eccentric. And so goofy. We would get into crazy modes, usually brought on by a lack of sleep on my part, where our dry and odd senses of humor would have us laughing uncontrollably all night. And to tell you the truth, I doubt if we even knew what we were laughing about many times. Or rather if I did, I am sure he had more of a clue. Sometimes Alan would say things so over my head I just had to pretend to understand for fear he'd try to explain and I'd get even more confused. Usually this involved baseball (which I know very little about), music (I at least had a clue), or old movies (sometimes I was right there & other times...).
Alan was an educator. He loved to teach people about things, of course working at a camera store and teaching people about cameras is a bit different. There is a lot of technology and science working there that most people just don't get. So I would usually come in and tell the customers what I understood of what he'd said in terms that were more simply stated. And I learned a lot, but mostly I could tell customers "This one's better, if you want a real explanation of why, you'll have to ask Alan."
Then there were the stories about Megan. She is an amazing dancer, and he proudly would brag about her accomplishments at her studio. We watched videos of recitals at work so many times that I (only working one or two days a week) had them memorized. And what I feel was surely his favorite story of Megan, because I heard it too many times to count, and every time he was full of amazement... I want to say she was two, maybe one, and they were walking in a park. She noticed a tree and wanted to feel it, so he walked her over and she felt the rough bark. He was just mesmerized by the curiosity and learning of his little girl. I can't tell the story well, and it may not sound like anything, but it was. It was a moment in his life. It was a moment in hers.
So I am writing this because I need to get my feelings out. So maybe Megan can see how much her parents impacted so many lives in such positive ways, however small or large of an impact. unfortunately our store closed in January, so I haven't seen Alan since then. We had a family there, and many of us were at the funeral today. I finally got to meet his daughter, a 16 year old with so much courage and strength, as well as his sister and a brother.
Finally, to all my friends, if you're depressed, sad, upset, anything and need to talk - call me. I don't care when it is, just talk to someone, please. Work it out some other way. I hate funerals.
I'll never hear "Merry, Merry" again before Christmas, and I'll never get those xylophone lessons either. Of course I'll probably never get a xylophone, but now if I do, I have no teacher.
We'll miss you Alan
No comments:
Post a Comment