i've seen fire and i've seen rain

It was sitting on my desk when I got to work this evening. I am used to coming in and seeing them. A manila folder with a list of names attached to it, and then who it is for written with a sharpee next to that. There is always a card inside. The cards are almost always stuff like congratulations on the new baby, get well soon, sorry your relative died. Then there are those that you never want to get. Cards with sympathy to the family of a friend and coworker that has just passed away.

Unfortunately, that is what was waiting for me on my desk.

I opened it up, saw the card and quickly read it. There was also an envelope for donations inside, but I didn't put anything in it. I will donate later. There was also a luminaria inside. We are writing messages on it, and it has his picture on it. It will be placed in the luminaria ceremony at the Relay for Life.

I haven't signed it or the card yet. I will do that before I leave today.

I met Mike my first week here. He was a "veteran" of this place. One of my earliest memories of him is also the funniest. The phones rang, and he picked it up and gave the normal greeting. No one responded, so he shouted "SCREW YOU!" into the phone and hung it up. The phones rang again, and he picked up and heard "screw me?" Oops! The greeting here had changed and the guy was confused and didn't respond. Mike turned red. He and his caller ended up laughing about it. Here at work, we laughed about it for years.

I always liked Mike, even when our old supervisor was drawing lines down the team and dividing it up between his friends and his enemies, and we found ourselves on the opposite side. He was always quick to help out if you needed him, and was someone you could walk over to, sit down and start laughing with.

I don't remember how long ago it was that he told us he had cancer, but it seems like a long time ago right now. He was strong and fought hard. He worked all the way through his radiation and chemo treatments. He only took time off when he really felt rotten, or when he was recovering after a few painful surgeries. After his chemo ended, we were all hopeful. He started bouncing back pretty quickly, and the last time I asked him he said that the scans were clear.

I remember the last thing we talked about. I knew it would make him laugh, and it did. I won't repeat it here though. I am keeping it inside. No, it wasn't about anyone either of us knew.

Last Tuesday was a shock. I walked into work, and Brian was waiting for me by the door. I could instantly tell that something serious was going on by the look on his face. He told me to put my stuff down, and I made my way to my desk and he stopped me and told me to put it down by the door. Even more serious than I thought. We walked out and he just looked at me and said "Mike died". Being at work alone that night sucked.

His stuff is still in his cubicle. His pictures of his kids, pictures of him with his baby grandson. Notes and drawings from his kids, his Steelers memorabilia, certificates. His phone is lit with a message. I am moving into it as soon as his stuff is packed. I thought about waiting a bit, but no one wants to see it empty.

Mike, you will be missed.

I think now is a good time to sign that luminaria.