Leah

Yesterday, when I was thinking about my employment options, I thought about Leah, a life coach and consultant I worked with a few months back. I met Leah during my last years as a teacher. She was hired to help the faculty and staff communicate more effectively with the administration. We had numerous meetings both as a group and individually and they were always difficult -- not because of Leah, but because the issues were straining everyone, creating a very low morale at the school.

Leah was a perfect choice for a mediator. Her presence in the middle of the difficult mess calmed us all. She articulated the issues, listened intently, and made us all feel that she was on our side even when those sides disagreed. When I "retired" my co-workers gifted me three sessions with Leah and last summer, Leah and I talked about my transition from teaching to something else. It helped me tremendously because she always had an important insight, she always said just the right thing, she gave me so much to think about, and she laughed in a way that made me feel confident in myself.

So yesterday, when I felt uncertain about my future decisions, I thought to myself call Leah because I knew she'd offer some needed guidance.

But I didn't call her. Instead, I went about my day, which included stopping by school, my former workplace, to pick up a dog I walk for a staff member there. Rafael, the Assistant Head of School, called me into this office and I thought he wanted to talk with me more about the Dean of Faculty position, but no. He wanted to tell me that Leah had passed away over the weekend.

Shock is an interesting feeling. All the air went out of my lungs and I sat stunned. I kept waiting for tears, but there weren't any. Instead, there was a hole inside of me and outside of me that felt vast and swirling. I fought all these feelings. In the measure of things, I barely new Leah. I was not her friend though we were always friendly. I was not a confidante though I felt as if she were always honest with me. In the past 3 years I've known Leah, I've spent possibly 15 hours with her in total and most of that time was in large group setting.

But when I heard the news, I felt as if I'd lost something personally significant -- a dear friend, a loving relative, a hopeful symbol. After I heard the news, I walked the dogs for an hour and it gave me time to reflect on Leah, on how amazing she was. This must be how some would feel if Oprah were to die, I thought to myself trying to measure the loss in a way some might understand. Only I'm not a huge fan of Oprah's and I don't mean to suggest in anyway that Leah had celebrity status, it's just that for some, Oprah changed their lives and her loss would reverberate.

Leah changed lives. She changed mine and when I think about all the people and organizations she worked with, the people and organizations she helped and improved, I realize just how many people she's influenced with her intelligence, wisdom, and wit. Leah not being here leaves a huge hole in the fabric of all that is good and positive and optimistic. Only those who worked with her, as well as her family and friends, realize the magnitude of her passing, but somehow I want everyone to know and even as I write it, I know everyone won't know what's been lost.

At one point in my walk yesterday I ran into my friend Laurie who'd just returned from a month in Mexico. She smiled her tan at me and we hugged. Laurie worked with Leah too and when I told her, the same look of shock crossed her face; the same suck of air escaping her lungs. "Oh my god," she said, "I was just going to call her this morning for some advice!"

Death is like this for everyone, I suppose. Everyone feels that gap in the world when someone of significance leaves us. I've felt it before, yet every time it surprises me. When Laurie told me she had thought of Leah that morning, I realized again how many lives Leah had influenced, how exponential her life was.

This morning, I'm still trying to hold the magnitude of that loss in my hands and no matter how hard I try, I can't.