Inspiration Mondays: A Tribute to Bob
Sometimes, you get news that makes you stop and take a breath and think a bit about what it's all about.
We had sad news at my workplace today that a beloved co-worker passed away this morning. It made me stop and think...
Bob worked in security and in shipping and receiving. He was retired... I don't know from what. He was a fixture for many of us... someone who always greeted you in the morning and said goodnight at the end of the day. He walked the floor, talking to visitors, making sure people knew their way and knew where things were. He was a friendly face, a willing ear, and always, always pleasant. He was a rarity. And all who knew of his passing are grieving now.
Isn't it wonderful to have the privilege to have known someone whom everyone loved?
So many times, I hear of people who retire from work, and then cease to know how to live life. Bob didn't do that. He carried on being him... being friendly and pleasant. He was lucky to find work he could do and to be around people who appreciated him. He chose to keep on living.
My favourite memory of Bob is from a few years ago. I met him in the hallway, and I greeted him, as I always did. "Hi, Bob! How's it going?"
"Well, Adriene," he said, "I've got this gout in my fingers and it's making my fingers swell. I can't get my rings off."
"Hey, you know what you should do?" I said. "You should walk around with your hands up in the air!" We both chuckled at the thought and went on with our day. For weeks after that, whenever Bob spied me approaching him, he'd lift his hands up in the air, and I laughed.
This morning, as I sat alone in the office thinking about Bob, I remembered that day. I looked down at my hands and remembered his knobbly, gnarled fingers.Then, I looked up at the ceiling, and raised my hands up in the air, just as he used to do.
Thanks for being you, Bob. I didn't know much about you, but I'm so glad I was lucky enough to share life with you. In a world full of silliness and frivolity, your steadiness mattered to me. Goodnight... see you next time.
We had sad news at my workplace today that a beloved co-worker passed away this morning. It made me stop and think...
Bob worked in security and in shipping and receiving. He was retired... I don't know from what. He was a fixture for many of us... someone who always greeted you in the morning and said goodnight at the end of the day. He walked the floor, talking to visitors, making sure people knew their way and knew where things were. He was a friendly face, a willing ear, and always, always pleasant. He was a rarity. And all who knew of his passing are grieving now.
Isn't it wonderful to have the privilege to have known someone whom everyone loved?
So many times, I hear of people who retire from work, and then cease to know how to live life. Bob didn't do that. He carried on being him... being friendly and pleasant. He was lucky to find work he could do and to be around people who appreciated him. He chose to keep on living.
My favourite memory of Bob is from a few years ago. I met him in the hallway, and I greeted him, as I always did. "Hi, Bob! How's it going?"
"Well, Adriene," he said, "I've got this gout in my fingers and it's making my fingers swell. I can't get my rings off."
"Hey, you know what you should do?" I said. "You should walk around with your hands up in the air!" We both chuckled at the thought and went on with our day. For weeks after that, whenever Bob spied me approaching him, he'd lift his hands up in the air, and I laughed.
This morning, as I sat alone in the office thinking about Bob, I remembered that day. I looked down at my hands and remembered his knobbly, gnarled fingers.Then, I looked up at the ceiling, and raised my hands up in the air, just as he used to do.
Thanks for being you, Bob. I didn't know much about you, but I'm so glad I was lucky enough to share life with you. In a world full of silliness and frivolity, your steadiness mattered to me. Goodnight... see you next time.
Comments
Bob retired from the Canadian Air Force as a meteorologist.
He used to grumble at me whenever I needed something (like let into collections or help with the overhead door), but he was never serious about it and would always grin and sometimes wink at me. I'll miss him.