Yesterday Lucia came to the office to gather her things and say goodbye. As people cried and gave her hugs I got my disguise ready. My mask. I immediately asked her to finish the work on her desk. She yelled at me and told me to take advantage of her yelling because it would be the very last time. I held back my tears, gave her a great big hug and kiss and looked at a familiar stain on the rug. She was as bright as I'd ever seen her. Smile shinning, telling all that everything was going to be alright. She told her daughter to put all her expensive purses on Ebay. Her husband is in his mid 70's and is about 10 or 12 years older than her. I imagine what a man like that will do after she is gone. They will celebrate their golden anniversary this year. They always thought that he would be the first to go. Life has a funny way of messing with you at times. This Saturday is her daughters 33rd or 34th birthday, and all Lucia could think about was her gift. And a cake for me. She told someone in confidence to make sure I got my cake on my birthday. I had to leave before she did, and I gave more goodbye's than really necessary. I needed it though. I jumped into the elevator and as the doors closed I saw her pass by and I yelled, "Lucia mi Bella, I love you". And I do. She gave me so much motherly advice, that proved to be important in the end. Was always straight and real with me. Brought me food from home, and shared some old Italian secret recipe's. The hard part is knowing that she isn't gone. She isn't dead yet. I wont see her three days a week anymore but that doesn't mean that I don't have to see her. I'm not calling her everyday either, but I have to speak to her, I have to see her. I don't want her to die. But maybe the death sentence is more pain than actual death. We all know we are going to die sooner or later, but knowing when, or knowing that there is only a certain amount of time left is a hard fact. Knowledge like that is torture.
I don't know what else to say. I act as if she already died.
I am scared.