I had planned to start some posts this week about my trip to Savannah, Georgia for Quiltcon, and how excellent that trip was… but I found out after I got home that a dear coworker had passed away unexpectedly on Monday, and I just couldn’t sit down a the computer to gush about my trip. It still doesn’t feel right to try to move forward without some sort of acknowledgement of the loss this world has suffered.
Nancee was, by far, one of the most amazing nurses I have worked with. She had such a contagious smile and positive attitude, always willing to lend a hand, and an amazing ability to calm and comfort both children and adults. As one of her friends posted online – “when God is in need of a nurse, he only calls up the best.” Her personality was so bright that she could pull off the most amazing outfits and fashion statements – ensembles that would look outright ridiculous on you or me, but when she wore them, she owned them – and looked fabulous doing so.
I still remember her laughter – when we both used to work some evening shifts, it was habit to check with the nurses at the end of the shift to see if they needed us to stick around for anything before bugging out for the night if there were still patients in the building. One night, her laughing response was that we needed to stick around to serve hot cocoa. It took some watching of the schedule, but by the next shift that both she and I worked the closing shift, I’d bought a can of hot cocoa powder, and a couple stacks of styrofoam cups with lids and brought those out once things started to slow down a bit for the evening. We had a good laugh as I reminded her of her previous request, and everybody was in a great mood that night, carrying around their cups of hot chocolate – all because of her joking comment one night as we headed out the door.
I’m still somewhat in shock that she’s gone – from my standpoint at least, it wasn’t anywhere near her time to go. For the last several months, she’s worked at a different clinic than I do, which makes it both easier and harder at the same time. I’m not confronted daily with her absence, but it makes it that much harder to believe that she’s not with us any longer – that this hasn’t just been some big misunderstanding. I’ve heard hints that the company we work for might be trying to arrange some sort of memorial for employees to attend – she’d worked for the same company for over 20, possibly over 25, years, and she’s touched so many lives. If everybody whose life she touched were able to attend her service, we’d need to take over CenturyLink Field. I can’t begin to imagine what her family must be going through.
Her Facebook account has become a sort of memorial wall, and while people rarely get to hear what would be said of them at their funeral while they’re still alive, I hope she had even a fraction of an idea of how much she was loved by everybody she encountered.
This was posted without permission from her family, and the photo was boosted from her Facebook account… so please, if you have any concerns about what I’ve shared, please contact me and I will alter or remove this post.