Goodbye

Tomorrow is a retirement party. The guest of honor is back in the city, having spent some time away. She's not well. The cancer's been at her for a while and the diagnoses aren't getting better.

For a lot of us, tomorrow will probably be our goodbye. She'll leave town again and that might be it. We're friends, but work friends. We know her husband a little, but not her kids or their kids. If it comes to it, we'll attend her funeral and we'll miss her, but our own lives are busy and other things will fill that space.

But she'll be in town and we'll have a party. We'll hug her, shake her husband's hand, tell her she's looking good. We'll have a few drinks and dinner, toast her, secretly admire her courage in small whispers at the back of the room. We'll drive home to our own families, a little sad, and give them an extra kiss while they sleep. Then we'll lie awake thinking.

And she'll have given us that.

UPDATE: After the meal, after presents were given and speeches were made, she stood in front of us, smiled, and said, "It's easier to be happy than to be sad."