I was cleaning out old work emails, and of course found a ton of email threads between Lynn and I that ranged from 2007 (when I started working at this job) and 2014 (when she passed). Phew – what a trip down memory lane… tibits of our life, “mundane” conversations that ultimately depict a shared life. We talked about when to expect each other hoem from work, what to have for dinner, upcoming holiday plans, vacation plans with family, stopping by my parents house after work to pick up food (this was a common one, lol).
Our last “back and forth” was in June 2014, in which we were discussing her friend’s upcoming wedding. And the next email that had her name in it was on December 4, 2014, when my Department Director sent an email to “All Staff” where she shared with everyone that Lynn had passed. I hadn’t read that email in years, and when she first sent it, it took me a long time to read it. She wrote, “By now all of us have heard the devastating news that Grace Villafuerte’s partner, Lynn Campanario, passed away very suddenly on Tuesday night. Our thoughts are with Grace. Lynn was an exceptional person. She worked to make Sonoma County a better place for people with HIV/AIDS, homeless people and people in substance abuse treatment. Lynn also worked in Health planning and services. She was recently hired to lead the Homeless Outreach Services Team for the County. As we hold Grace in our hearts and look for ways to honor Lynn and comfort Grace, there are cards to be signed on X’s desk as well as a donation envelope. Tonight is the Dining Out for Life AIDS benefit. Grace has asked that people participate in Lynn’s memory and honor. It is an event that she participated in every year. Thank you all for you caring concern for Grace.”
Re-reading all this, I took several minutes looking at the time gap between the dozens of emails between Lynn and I, and the six month gap of time where there was abruptly no emails exchanged, and then the shocking finality of my Director’s message. I thought of how these emails were a tangible example of many years of a lively, active conversation with someone that can end so abruptly. I thought of our days that occupied that 6 month gap. We had great adventures, locally and on vacation with her family. We further established our home. We helped our new, younger dog settle into the family with us and our older dog. We went on walks after work and she started cooking for fun, because for the first time, she had a job that she stopped working at 5pm. She got a new amazing job that further highlighter her brilliance and dedication to our community.
And in the couple of days between her old and new jobs, she went to her regular medical exam, and asked me to join because she felt “off” about it. At that appointment, we found out she might have cancer, and we went to many additional medical appointments. She received great support from her supervisors at her new job, who had already known her for years. We shared the news that she might have cancer with close friends and family, and received deep support and love. We got through each day together, with anxiety, love, fear, and optimism. And then, less than 36 hours after she was officially diagnosed with cancer, she passed away suddenly in the middle of the night (pulmonary embolism), and that horrible email needed to be sent out. An email that was just a hint of the beginning of how my life had changed forever…
There ARE emails with her name after that email though. For the next 7 years, there are emails asking coworkers to support my various fundraisers in honor of Lynn. Emails that “outed” me with coworkers who did not know I was a widow. Because Lynn and I worked in the same field (Social Services), our work paths and worlds intercepted frequently, so most folks who knew her knew me, and vice versa. After her passing, it was definitely strange explaining I was a widow, and also explaining who Lynn was, after years of being known as a “team” in our community.
My friend explained it perfectly when she said, when she became widowed, it felt like being an alien in this world, where everything was “the same,” but she was completely different. I completely feel that! Re-reading these emails feels surreal, and my heart goes out to that “Grace” and all our loved ones, remembering the long grief road we had ahead. I am actually glad to be able to remember, because it shows me that we all persevered, we made it through, bruised and scraped perhaps, but I feel victorious in having survived one of life’s hardest experiences.
