The ground wobbled a bit on Tuesday when I found out that one of the editors, who I did not work with here but did in my previous life in Colorado, had died that morning after fighting a nasty, nasty cancer for more than a year. We weren't pals, but we were well-acquainted. Of course, I phoned my former co-workers and, of course, they already knew. Funny how you can not talk to people for several years and then pick up again like it was two weeks ago that you rang them up:
We talked about kids -- how they've grown (engaged?! She can't be old enough to be engaged!) but how we, of course, haven't aged at all and yes, it's good to hear your voice, too.
We talked about work --how the faces change, but that the politics doesn't. And who has left, where they are now.
We talked about L. She was creative beyond belief, exacting and driven. I could see her imprint -- never heavy-handed, but clearly L's touch -- on many, many pages.
We also did some counting. She was the third woman from that era at that paper who'd passed away within the last 15 months. It's my understanding that there will be no services, but that her ashes will be spread near Leadville, I suppose when her husband is ready. She lived in other places after leaving Colorado, but, knowing how much she loved the mountains, it's fitting that she'll become part of them.