I feel like a bit of an idiot. Today I attended a funeral. I didn't know this woman particularly well. I don't know her family. I don't know most of her friends, and only barely know the rest on a professional level. I didn't interact with her at all outside the university, with the exception of a couple of emails after I went away to England. And yet her death and the fact that I won't ever see her again are affecting me a lot, and I don't entirely understand why.
She was an absolute whirlwind. As somone pointed out today, she was like a force of nature - sometimes a tornado, sometimes a rainbow. To continue quoting from the eulogies, she knew what she wanted, when she wanted it, and as long as she got it at precisely the right moment, she was pretty easy to please. And lord only knows, she's probably up there attempting to micromanage the way Saint Peter runs the gates of heaven. She drove a lot of people nuts at various times. What matters most, though, I think, is that she showed me kindness during a period in my life when I really needed it. And it is that that I will always remember. And from what I heard today, I was not the only one.
What gets me, is that it was yet another person that I know who's died of cancer. It's snatching up the best and brightest, and ripping them away from us.
Dietlind Bechthold was an amazing woman. Especially in the last fourteen months of her life, as you can see chronicled on the short website she and her loved ones mainted.
I will always remember how I finally learned her name. After continued banter about some paper or other I was handing in after a long semester of handing in paper after paper, I finally said something along the lines of "You know my name now, so what's yours?", and it started from there. She'd photocopy papers for me - but only in return for my postering half of the Tory Building... I can still bring to mind our chats about her German courses, the paper she had in storage for me from a prof that I didn't want back, the discussion with another faculty member about the colour of a third faculty member's robes (he claimed 'Crimson', we all thought pink...). She was about the only person behind that counter that didn't scare me half to death - and the only one that ever bothered to learn my name, even after 5 years of handing in papers and picking things up and asking questions.
I wish I had faith. At least then I'd believe that she wasn't gone for good and that maybe we'd get to trade witty insults again some day.
Much love to you, Dietlind.
She was an absolute whirlwind. As somone pointed out today, she was like a force of nature - sometimes a tornado, sometimes a rainbow. To continue quoting from the eulogies, she knew what she wanted, when she wanted it, and as long as she got it at precisely the right moment, she was pretty easy to please. And lord only knows, she's probably up there attempting to micromanage the way Saint Peter runs the gates of heaven. She drove a lot of people nuts at various times. What matters most, though, I think, is that she showed me kindness during a period in my life when I really needed it. And it is that that I will always remember. And from what I heard today, I was not the only one.
What gets me, is that it was yet another person that I know who's died of cancer. It's snatching up the best and brightest, and ripping them away from us.
Dietlind Bechthold was an amazing woman. Especially in the last fourteen months of her life, as you can see chronicled on the short website she and her loved ones mainted.
I will always remember how I finally learned her name. After continued banter about some paper or other I was handing in after a long semester of handing in paper after paper, I finally said something along the lines of "You know my name now, so what's yours?", and it started from there. She'd photocopy papers for me - but only in return for my postering half of the Tory Building... I can still bring to mind our chats about her German courses, the paper she had in storage for me from a prof that I didn't want back, the discussion with another faculty member about the colour of a third faculty member's robes (he claimed 'Crimson', we all thought pink...). She was about the only person behind that counter that didn't scare me half to death - and the only one that ever bothered to learn my name, even after 5 years of handing in papers and picking things up and asking questions.
I wish I had faith. At least then I'd believe that she wasn't gone for good and that maybe we'd get to trade witty insults again some day.
Much love to you, Dietlind.
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If it's any consolation, I don't think she's gone for good. You'll see her again on that beautiful shore.