March 22, 2012



After spending a grand total of 19 hours in bed yesterday sleeping, I figured I would return to work in office appropriate pajamas.  I did not wear pajamas yesterday because I literally came home and hopped into bed.  Therefore, I woke up in both my pencil skirt and a pool of sweat (sexy, I know).

Still not feeling 100% today, but my fever had gone down significantly.  And because I am a neurotic freakshow about my bosses knowing my dedication to my job coupled with my inability to realize that the office could really live a day without me, I went in this morning anyways (after taking these pictures on my way in of course).

Sometimes I wish I worked in a bigger firm--more hustle and bustle, a bigger paycheck and larger client base.  But most of the time, I am perfectly comfortable in a small firm, being the only paralegal in it.  Today I remembered why.

I don't want to keep harping on Bob's passing on here because, well, just because.  You guys didn't know Bob and you didn't know how close we were and this is supposed to be a happy place.  I don't want to be a Debbie Downer and what nots. But it is certainly taking a large toll on me--emotionally and physically. 

I miss Bob.  I mean, I really, really miss Bob.  I miss our breaks and our conversations.  How this ties in with being in a small firm is that we all miss Bob.  And it is interesting to see how differently we are all handling it.  

Bert and Dawn are pretty down to business.  Bert has known Bob a long time and Dawn was just getting to know Bob.  But the minute that we heard he had passed, they were quick to offer their help to see what needed to get done.  They are sad, I know, but they are also focusing their energy on helping his family by getting the logistics done as much as possible. 

Peggy and I are both the same.  It is fair to say that we had the closest personal relationships to Bob in the office.  We are both on and off with crying, talking about how much we miss him, relishing in memories of him--funny things he would say, habits he had and how amazing he was as a listener.  We talk a lot, mostly, of just how much we miss him.  Genuinely.

Daryl I had not been able to figure out yet.  He has shared office space with Bob for over 30 years.  His passing was a shock to him, that is certain.  When I told him, he was spouting off fragments of sentences about who Bob was and how great a guy he had been.  But, he hadn't really shown much emotion towards the subject.   

But today as I dragged myself to work, fanning myself off with every ounce of energy I had (I swear to God it was at least 135 degrees in the office today) and sniffling up a storm, Daryl kept telling me to go home.  He said it about 15 times.  I told him that I was fine, but he kept insisting.  

On his last attempt, he added a phrase that I would never expect Daryl to say.  Daryl is not a very emotional man by any means and he is pretty reserved for the most part.  I thought I heard him wrong, so I asked him what he said.  "Robin, I love you dearly, please go home and take care of yourself."  So, I did.  It really meant a lot to me that he had said that and it made me realize--Daryl's way of dealing with Bob's passing is really very simple.  He is there to take care of the people that he cares about the most and not take life too seriously--just as Bob had.  And because I have been nothing if not a ball of mush since I heard about Bob, I listened to him.  Which goes to show that in time of sadness, if you say something nice to me, I will do as you ask.  Even if what you ask me to do is to get the hell away from you so I don't get you sick.  ;-)  Thanks, Daryl.

Striped Capri's-Ann Taylor, gifted; Long White Button Up-Wal-Mart; Silver Pumps-Donna Lawrence; Black Belt-Kohl's; Necklace-DIY and gifted; Earrings-gifted

1 comment:

  1. You look lovely in this outfit even though you are not feeling well.
    I don't know if you have ever read it, but a book that helped me deal with someone I loved dying is "On Death and Dying" by Elisabeth Kubler Ross. We learn so much about how to deal with life, but hardly anything ever about dying.
    I am thinking of you and Bob's family.


You call it your two cents, I call it priceless. Thank you so much for visiting! I read and cherish every single comment.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...
Site Design By Designer Blogs