Yesterday was the six year anniversary of Linda Bracketts death. Soon it will be the anniversary of my brother Bill’s death. We just past Kim’s death day.
Time flies, and we ride the roller coaster of grief.
Sometimes I feel I’m getting to the point where I mention death anniversaries a bit more often than birthday celebrations. No matter, I tend to be thinking about someone I love or miss everyday!
For balance – I also remember Leslie’s birthday last week, and Joe and Sandie upcoming wedded bliss anniversary later this week.
So much and nothing changes. It makes sense that we would think of loved ones on special days, holidays and anniversaries.
Of course, out of the blue, on a regular Tuesday, a memory might smack me in the heart when I least expect it. Truth be told, I think of the dead quite often.
A few times a year, I email Frank (Linda’s husband) and ask him to tell me a story about Linda. He’d write back with a story that usually ended with, “Thats Linda for you!”
I know I’ve told this story before, and here it is again. I’ll continue to tell it, because unless I meet someone else, who knew her, there will be no new stories involving her again.
Linda was my mentor in the late 80s. It was she that suggested I learn some new skills & take the desk-top publishing course at the University of Oregon.
Actually, I was able to work for Sam & Little Productions later because of her guidance & those skills.
Linda was a business woman. She encouraged me to be professional when answering the phone. She taught me how to filed paperwork & organize schedules. In general, Linda taught me all around, big important, office stuff.
One day she asked me to type something. I started to object, but she would have none of it. I sat in front of the computer. D E A R S I R S : I began.
She told me I needed better posture; to sit up straight, that I should curl my fingers over the keys & look ONLY at the paper being typed; never was I to look at my hands on the keyboard. She also added, that it was important that I typed as fast as possible.
I’m a good student; I did everything she told me to.
It wasn’t long before she looked over at my work. She was AGHAST! I was hitting the keys with abandon & with a speed that was quite impressive. But, Linda cried, “Stop! Stop! Stop!”
When I looked up, Linda was laughing so hard she had tears running down her cheeks.
With great posture, speed and dedication, I had typed —D E A R S I R … whtod Â eohjethwic seh eogjfiue Â eotjrgh qodfel fjgour!
My secret was out — I had no clue how to type! (Hell, I barely knew how to read)
A fine mentor she was; instead of firing me on the spot, through her laughter and tears, Linda suggested that I work on my skills a bit.
I remember you Linda.