Paulette Van Zant was a very important person, whom anyone would be lucky to know. She was kind, worked very hard, and didn't take things for granted. She made something out of herself. She paid her dues by taking care of her sick parents as each died, and continued to work. We should all aspire to be more like her. She loved fried chicken and pork tenderloin, and gave me tips on how to make better broccoli.
Paulette retired because she had breast cancer. When she left, I started to bring her food and visit her. She needed help and to know that people cared about her. When I was at her house, she showed me one of her most prized possessions: a beautiful letter from her prior employer telling her how valuable she was to them.
I lost my phone with Paulette's number in it. When I got a new one, I downloaded a "to-do list" app that automatically snoozes anything on the list to the next day at midnight. I entered: "find Paulette's number and call her." The days just went by, filled with dad getting worse and keeping up with school. And then there was my grandfather and my dog and everything else.
Paulette died last night. She's still on my to-do list.
Was there really no time? I know there was. I want her to know how important she was in the lives of others. I want her to know that she made a difference, and that people cared about her. She won't know, because I never told her. I never told her because I couldn't make the time. Shame on me.
Every day lights go out across the globe without anyone ever seeing their brilliance. To me, that's the tragedy of the human condition.
Rest in peace, Paulette. I saw your brilliance, and I miss it. But I'm glad you aren't in pain anymore. Please help my father when he joins you soon. Maybe he'll open up to you, although he wouldn't open up to me, after he's shuffled off the body and all the misery that accompanies this corporeal existence.
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