Today, a dear colleague - formally, my immediate supervisor but informally, I regard her as my godmother - officially retired after 28 years of service.
We threw a farewell party to appreciate her contribution to the company. We discovered nuggets of little-known facts (she once collected enough leave days to go on leave for an entire year - and she did!) and shared our memorable encounters with her.
The party came and went by smoothly. But as a few of us were helping to clear away the remains of the party, we were stopped in our tracks by a devastating sight. I will always remember this picture in my mind.
Amid the flurry of activity around her (it's four something and pages are being rushed to be signed off), she is sitting alone at her nearly empty desk, weeping.
I can only imagine what could be running through her head, her heart. The years, the people, the pages, the words.
When it came time for her to leave, my boss gathered a few of us to usher her down to her car. And as we exchanged our final hugs outside her car, those tears began to well up again.
Being the last one in line, she gave me a hurried hug, fearing she would shed more tears if she delayed any longer.
As she got into her car, she muttered what would be her last words to me, as my superior, "Kenneth, be a good boy ah?"
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