R.I.P. Pam
by Scott Hardie on January 14, 2022
Pam was a co-worker from the 2000s who recently passed away. Kelly worked with her much more closely than I did, sharing a cubicle space with her for years and getting to know her very well, though I had plenty of conversations with her too. She was always ready with a compliment or a joke or a homemade treat, and she was a source of light in a job that could be quite a grind some days. The group photos that I have left from that company always showed her smiling and laughing. You don't always appreciate the people who bring happiness into your life until you feel their absence, and it's a shame. She adored her children and grandchildren, and I know how much they miss her now. I do too.
Three Replies to R.I.P. Pam
Scott Hardie | January 14, 2022
Yes, all true and well said. Thanks! My father's been gone 25 years this week, but I still see particular scenes from old movies and remember how much they amused him. I appreciate that I got a chance to know Pam, and to be inspired to be a light for other people like she was.
Evie Totty | January 14, 2022
I don't really have more to add other than I'm sorry for your loss. I'm glad that your memories of her are good ones :)
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
Firsties
It's been one year today since Kelly and I got married, but that feels strange to say, since it's been nineteen years today since our first date back in high school. I don't mind that it took us so long to get to this "first" anniversary; I'm just glad that we got here at last. We spent the day out feeding flamingos at a local animal sanctuary and eating at some favorite restaurants before I go back on diet tomorrow. Go »R.I.P. Nicole
You know those memes about how 2020 just keeps getting worse by the month? I didn't like them before because it's been such a very awful and depressing year that I'm not in the mood to joke about it. And now I really don't like them, because for me, June has indeed managed to be even worse: My friend Nicole died suddenly of a stroke on Friday. Go »Hello Stupid
I don't know why car companies insist on calling their products "vehicles" now. Apparently "cars" became a dirty word and I missed it. But if you're going to change the term, consider your marketing messages carefully: As a matter of fact, yes, I have heard about radar, sonar, and infared technology in vehicles, such as submarines, aircraft carriers, and helicopters. Go »R.I.P. Harry
It's been a melancholy weekend since learning of the passing of a family friend. Fifty years ago, Harry and my mother went on a date. They didn't quite click, but she liked him enough to introduce him to her best friend, and sparks flew between them that soon led to marriage and a lifetime of gratitude to my mother for introducing them. Go »No News is Good News
Yesterday I spent eight hours in a hospital waiting room in Tampa while my mother underwent surgery for a torn rotator cuff. She's recovering well, but the harm inflicted on me by eight hours of cable news has yet to wear off. It happened to be Fox News Channel, but that's irrelevant; all news is boring when you're in the hospital and are stuck watching it at length, because the newscasters only repeat over and over the breathless update that they have nothing more to report and here are the things they don't know yet. Go »
Steve West | January 14, 2022
Death is a natural part of the life cycle. Although true, it doesn't make it any easier to cope, even intellectually. Time passes and the pain ebbs but it never really disappears. Even happy memories threaten tears. "This was one of my Mom's favorite movies", I'll say while reaching for a tissue. Your grief cannot be my own, but I can appreciate what that sadness feels like. It saddens me that such a lovely person is no longer here and she will not be easily replaced. There are only so many like her in the first place. Take comfort that you were privileged to know her. Remember her kindness and use her memory to improve yourself, trying to mimic her best qualities; something we should probably do before someone passes. Be well, my friend.