It was 1986. I was a young lawyer with a new job at a government office. Erica was not much older, but she was more experienced at the work of the place. She was one of a few who taught me. We became work friends. In our case, that meant we hung together when we were at work, lunch, consultations and complaints about the work we did, as well as her mentoring someone, me, still learning the ropes. We did not do much outside of work, so it wasn't as intimate a friendship as I have made with other such colleagues. No reason I think, except maybe she had a husband and two kids and our lives were on different paths.
It's always when such a person dies that you, I, wish it had developed into something more.
But the window of opportunity has passed. She is gone, too soon, what was it that someone said, "betrayed by the body she was so comfortable with", with an ovarian cancer, I understand, that spread finally too much for her to fight.
At the Hollywood Forever cemetery yesterday, packed with people in the little chapel, and overflowing, I heard things I did know, about how she was a bit of a hippie, how she loved to dress in color and quirky fashion, how untraditional were the decoration schemes of her office, which I myself had seen and loved, how she was a cover of calm for those other of us who tend toward the more impulsive and noisy. That she was a good lawyer, this I knew from being on both sides of the fence with her, when we were both prosecutors, and then after 1995 when she went to the defense side and quietly, persistently, argued for her clients. But I did not know about the belly dancing. I did not know she had a brother who viewed her as something of an "earth goddess". I did not know that the man she married was a childhood family friend. I knew she was fearless, but did not know that fearlessness failed to extend to trying cilantro. I did not know she was a gourmet. I knew she was liked, but not by this many people and as intensely. It is always humbling to see those few memorials where someone now gone is so much a loss for so many. I doubt I will ever have that honor, although I am somewhat ashamed that I would wish it, anyway.
She should not be gone, but there was no doubt of the impact she made right till the end, with humor, love, and courage.
I wish I had known her better. But I am glad I knew her at all.
It's always when such a person dies that you, I, wish it had developed into something more.
But the window of opportunity has passed. She is gone, too soon, what was it that someone said, "betrayed by the body she was so comfortable with", with an ovarian cancer, I understand, that spread finally too much for her to fight.
At the Hollywood Forever cemetery yesterday, packed with people in the little chapel, and overflowing, I heard things I did know, about how she was a bit of a hippie, how she loved to dress in color and quirky fashion, how untraditional were the decoration schemes of her office, which I myself had seen and loved, how she was a cover of calm for those other of us who tend toward the more impulsive and noisy. That she was a good lawyer, this I knew from being on both sides of the fence with her, when we were both prosecutors, and then after 1995 when she went to the defense side and quietly, persistently, argued for her clients. But I did not know about the belly dancing. I did not know she had a brother who viewed her as something of an "earth goddess". I did not know that the man she married was a childhood family friend. I knew she was fearless, but did not know that fearlessness failed to extend to trying cilantro. I did not know she was a gourmet. I knew she was liked, but not by this many people and as intensely. It is always humbling to see those few memorials where someone now gone is so much a loss for so many. I doubt I will ever have that honor, although I am somewhat ashamed that I would wish it, anyway.
She should not be gone, but there was no doubt of the impact she made right till the end, with humor, love, and courage.
I wish I had known her better. But I am glad I knew her at all.
3 comments:
Djinna:
It was so odd to read your entry -- I just had a similar experience. A friend with whom I did my most recent book passed away unexpectedly last week. I had known John casually for a long time, got to know him better when we worked together on the book, and stayed in touch after he retired (he left the NHL not long before I got here).
It was fascinating to read the obits and the remembrances of friends and co-workers, to realize not only what I had felt about John was shared by so many others -- and to realize how much about him I didn't know, and how I wished (far too late, alas) that I had known him better.
I drove an hour to his wake. I'd have driven a lot longer to make it. He was truly a special human being; like you, I wish I had known more about it and had a better chance to say goodbye.
Thanks John. I suspect we are all connected in such experiences.
The time machine that the internet is for those of us under 50 is incredible and emotional. I am writing a book, The Women on my Journey, and was beginning with the first girl that I ever remembered.
It was Erica Tabachnick. Sometime in the late 1950's in West LA. She was in my elementary class and was having a birthday party. A princess birthday party at that. It turned out I was the only invited boy. We lived just a few block from each other, and were both the kids of psychiatrists, who were always plotting to get their kids together. I remember being the last one to leave, and playing with some kid of a castle. I remember Erica's infectious smile, pigtails, I believe, and happy laugh.
So today, more than 50 years later, I searched for her on the internet, only to my dismay, to find her
early obit. What I did see did not surprise me, the same smile, a successful and meaningful lawyer, a wonder ful husband and kids (husband possibly from my childhood!), and that same smile. I never followed her much after early elementary school, but from the looks of her life, I wish I had gotten to know her. Rest in peace, and may your grandchildren have your wonder smile and sparkle in their eyes.
Should any family member wish to contact me I am at
leehsolow@mac.com
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