Tuesday, September 14, 2010

I Will Miss You, Liz

     Today, one of my friends died.  Liz Mattingly fought long, hard, and bravely, but once again, cancer won, taking the life of a special person.  Dammit.  I will miss knowing that Liz is here among us; it was a comfort to know she was a presence on this earth.  
     It seems strange to put it that way, but Liz and I didn't see each other very much, and I actually didn't realize she was so sick.  But knowing that she was here, in this community, made things "right" in my world, and I feel a void now that she's gone.  I really hate it that our lives get so complicated, so filled that we don't have time to spend with all of those who mean so much to us.  My family is scattered, my friends are busy, and there is always work, "stuff", and more "stuff", and before I know it, another person is gone.  I wish I could say things will be different from here on, but I know that, even tomorrow, "stuff" will get in the way, and I will miss another opportunity....
     I met Liz in the summer of 2000, just after I was elected to the local School Board.  She had just been re-elected, and I was very green and very full of myself.  Within a month, I knew that I really knew so very little about my new job.  Liz and all the other "veteran" Board members were very patient with me, and soon we were friends as well as colleagues.  We faced some very tough, very challenging situations during our time together on the Board, and my respect and admiration of her intelligent, yet quiet, leadership grew.  Because of the confidential nature of what we were dealing with, Liz was one of the few people I could freely speak to, and with her words of wisdom, her laughter, her calm nature, she kept me sane.  In fact, Liz became a person I knew I could completely trust, at a time when there were few I could say that about.  Our friendship continued after our time on the Board; I cherished our friendship, and I am so very, very sad that she's gone.
     A community often takes for granted those who quietly serve.  At a time when politics seems to only be about those who attract the most attention, who shout the loudest, who say the most provocative things, it's very easy to overlook those who diligently do their jobs, efficiently serve the public.  Liz is one of those who was overlooked, unfortunately.  She was so intelligent, so thoughtful, but yet so quiet; I quickly learned that if Liz said something, I'd better listen, because she was going to say something I really, really needed to hear.  She cared deeply about our community, our schools and the people in them--students, teachers, administrators, staff, and she was willing to dedicate a good number of years--precious years, as it turns out--to serving those she cared about.  At a tumultuous time in our school corporation, she was willing to give, and give, and give--she was a true public servant.  Thank you, Liz, for all you did for us.  We need to have more leaders like you.
     I will miss you, Liz.  I will miss your laugh, I will miss the stories about your amazing children, and I will mourn the loss of time I thought we had together.  I raise a glass to you (it just seems appropriate), and I say, "Thank you, friend!  You made this world a better place.  You made me a better person.  May you rest peacefully now."

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