I plead the 5th is always what I had thought of when I heard the 5th. Recently, that changed for me forever and not pleasantly.
A Heavy Heart and Lasting Memories
On August 5th, my boss—whom I had worked for and grown close to over the past twelve years—passed away from a massive heart attack. Then on October 5th, my dad passed away from complications related to Alzheimer’s. He simply forgot to breathe. On March 5th, a childhood friend I had grown up with died of meningitis. And earlier that January, a coworker passed away from cancer.
Each of those losses hit hard, but losing my boss, Kevin, was especially difficult. He was a tough guy—“my way or the highway” kind of boss—but I learned early on what he expected from me, and I delivered. Beneath that tough exterior, though, he was kind. He helped me and many others over the years.
A couple of months before he passed, I saw a change in him. He was the happiest I had ever seen him. There was a light in his eyes and a smile that said he was finally enjoying life. He told me he trusted me 100% with his finances—and that meant the world to me.
When he passed, I grieved so deeply that the stress triggered shingles—my second time with it, and I’m not even fifty yet. This time, it wrapped around my armpit in a painful horseshoe. It could have been worse (I know people who’ve had it on their face), but still, it was miserable.
After his passing, the company was bought out by an investor. They let another business run things, and the family-oriented environment I had known for 12 years turned corporate. I’m grateful to still have my job, but I’ll never forget the memories or the people from those 12 years.
My Dad’s Battle with Alzheimer’s
My dad was far too young when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s—and far too young when he passed. Over ten years, I watched him slowly fade into a childlike state. It’s a heartbreaking disease I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
I supported my parents financially for over 16 years. When my dad took his final breath, my mom and siblings were there with me. I had seen death before, working in nursing homes, so I thought I was prepared. But when they removed the powerful oxygen mask he had on, replacing it with a smaller one, his expression changed. He looked scared—his eye opened wide—and I’ll never forget it. He and I shared the same eye color, and now I think of him every time I do my makeup.
Even though he contributed to the pain of my childhood, he taught me so much about being an adult. He was a hard worker—a jack of all trades—and he shaped who I am today.
When I was 17, I blew the engine in the car he gave me. A neighbor offered to fix it, but in exchange, he wanted sex. I refused, and never told my dad why the neighbor never did the work. Instead, my dad made me rebuild the engine myself. It took a while, but I did it. At the time I was angry, but later I came to appreciate it—it taught me resilience and independence most girls my age never had to learn.
Remembering Candie
I had lost touch with Candie, a childhood friend. One of my favorite memories was from a party at her house—we were all piled onto her freezing cold waterbed. I remember waking up sore and groggy, and the song “Talk Dirty to Me” by Poison playing in the background. That song and that night will stay with me forever.
At her funeral, her mother shared photos of us together, and I was surprised to see how many I was in. I cried when I heard that Candie passed away with her son cuddled next to her. She waited for that moment before she let go. That touched me deeply.
I really wish I had stayed in contact with her. She was such a good person, and I’ll always carry that regret with me.
Loss is never easy. These moments in life shape us—and while I’ve grieved deeply, I’ve also learned. Through all of this, I’m reminded how important it is to stay connected, to show love while we can, and to hold on to the lessons and memories we’ve been given.
