The Lives That Touch Us, and The Lives We Touch

Yesterday I got an e-mail letting me know that a woman, whom I really knew very little about, had died . . . and I was utterly heart broken.

She had been a regular at the Studio since the first week we opened.  Every week for over four years she sat at our project table, and as corny as it sounds, while we weren’t paying attention, entered our hearts.  Lest I be painting a picture of a sweet charming adorable knitter, always kind and cheerful . . . let me say, that was not Renee.  She often sounded angry, she shook her head at you when she felt you didn’t understand, while saying “listen, listen, listen”, she could bark at you, and we used to explain to new staffers, that Renee was special and she sounded mad at you, but she was really quite sweet.

She made me a cake for my birthday, she brought cookies for the staff on the holidays, and she always planned on making me Matzo Ball Soup (don’t know why, she just kept saying she wanted to), and now we will never see her again.

I was touched and surprise when I got an e-mail from her cousin telling me how much Renee loved us all, and how special and safe we made her feel.  You just have no idea of the impact you make on other people.  I remember a while ago when we hadn’t seen her for a while and got worried about her.  We found out she was recovering from a procedure on her eye, and we sent her a get well card.  She sent us a thank you card saying we shouldn’t have done it, but was glad we did.

But she probably had no idea the impact she had on us.  I’ll admit, I was surprised at how heartbroken I felt. I feel so very very sad.  It was so hard to tell the staff today.  It hit my manager Michelle (who has been with me since opening) particularly hard.

She took the words right out of my mouth when she said “I can’t get it through my head that she’ll never walk in that door again”.

Neither can I.

We’ll miss you.

Safe journey.