What do I remember about my friend who died ten years ago? My memories are jumbled, funny, and sad. Random things remind me of her like the color teal,  blues music, a great book, or stories about adopting children.  

         KQ had this crazy loud laugh that sounded like a wild braying donkey. When something struck her as funny, she laughed “long and loud and clear,” like the song “I Love to Laugh,” from Mary Poppins. I can’t recall what made her laugh, but when I needed a funny story, I’d walk around the corner to visit her.

         I hired KQ for a media relations position based on her strong writing credentials. Plus, I liked her attitude. We had an easy conversation during her job interview. She was a reporter, like I was before pivoting to public relations. Therefore, I thought she’d be good at the role. The first two weeks were hard for both of us.

        We argued about press releases. She didn’t want to “make up a quote” from one of our subject matter experts (as we called them) for a humdrum press release. When the news wasn’t ground-breaking research that needed to be explained, the media person drafted the quote, then got it approved. Clunky system, but it was how we did business. Somehow, we adjusted and became a strong team.

        She was smart—in ways that I wasn’t. Her math skills were excellent. This meant research papers with equations did not intimate her. She also spotted data errors in reports (before they were published).

        I remember her immense vocabulary and that she was a voracious reader, like a prospector reader mining for knowledge. It wasn’t that she tried to impress everyone; she simply knew the specific word that worked. I remember a co-worker asked me after a meeting to explain “what the heck” KQ had said. “Well, why didn’t she just say that!” the co-worker asked me. Some people found her word knowledge off-putting.

        Her beliefs also offended some colleagues. For example, this woman wasn’t ashamed to admit she was an atheist. She didn’t boast about being an atheist, but she didn’t shy away from talking about religion. Or politics.

We talked about politics, a subject few dove into at work. It probably broke office protocol. I have a vivid image of her crying in front of the TV when we learned John Kerry had lost to George W. Bush. It was a close race. But back to religion.

I knew my friend would have disliked the Christian funeral. As I sat through the service, my stomach flipped, and tears fell because I’d lost a friend. But this traditional service, despite the kind words, hymns and eulogies, just made me upset because KQ would have hated it. But memorials are for those left behind.

KQ had an informal wedding ceremony “down the shore.” A small, feet in the sand beach service. I loaned her a blue rhinestone necklace to wear. When she got married, she became a wife and a mother to a teenage daughter from her husband’s previous marriage. Her husband was older, but I don’t recall his age when they wed. She wasn’t concerned because she loved him.

After their wedding, the newlyweds decided to adopt a child. How much time had passed? I’m not sure. First, they worked with private adoption agencies, which were expensive. The emotional cost was high too. Then, the couple entered a foster to adopt — a state program. Many joys and heartbreaking times filled the months. Once they cared for a newborn boy, whom they hoped to adopt, only to have him taken from them.

They kept trying. Finally, they adopted a girl, erasing the doubt, sadness, anger, and fear that plagued the couple as they waited. Later, they adopted two boys. One brother was white and the other African American. She had one big, beautiful family.

Soon after, doctors diagnosed her with ovarian cancer. Often misdiagnosed, it’s a disease with a cruel history. In my friend’s case, her cancer was discovered very late.

After her diagnosis, she shared that she had cancer because she wanted support. She was going to fight, not hide. She was going to share what she knew rather than keep secrets. Her body got weaker, but her mind stayed strong.

Cancer? Her diagnosis hit me hard. She continued to work (despite family and friends urging to stay home) until she became too sick to work. She was a petite and fit woman, and she shrunk every week.

Her birthday was in February. She was still working, and I believe undergoing chemo. It was early in her uphill battle. Our office liked birthday parties. Celebrating with cake was a monthly pastime.

I had an early dentist appointment the day for the February birthdays party, and couldn’t commute on my usual train. Instead, I drove to a different train station. I misread the train’s timetable and would have to wait almost an hour for the next train. While I was debating my fate, another commuter arrived. She said another nearby station could take us downtown sooner. The friendly woman drove us to the station. Why didn’t I follow her in my vehicle? My memory is foggy, but perhaps my car was at another station, and I was transferring trains.

Riding with strangers isn’t something I do, but I didn’t want to miss this party. The passenger’s seat had dog hair, so I assumed she was a “good, kind person.” But she wasn’t the best driver. Too fast for me. I held onto the armrest the entire trip. And I was ready to make a quick exit if needed.

Thankfully, I arrived at the station safe and sound and at the office on time. Until today, I told no one about the joy ride with the stranger. At the party, a friend said, “You know it’s the last birthday party we’ll celebrate with her.” 

She was right. KQ took her last breath while in hospice care that July.

We organized a technology summit in memory of our media maven. Oh, how KQ enjoyed experimenting with technology whether she was producing an internal podcast or upping our social media presence. 

I miss her innovative spirit. Her ambition and determination will stay with me. I long for our friendship. She made me a better person, manager, and friend.

 I miss her wild laugh. But most of all, I miss her.