I walked into work this morning with a very sombre atmosphere surrounding the sales floor. People had shocked looks on their face and my manager had sore, red eyes from obvious crying. It was only through hearing people chatting while making their morning cup of tea that it suddenly dawned on me what had happened.
One of my colleagues, Dave Webber, a field rep on our team of just 11 members had been taken ill on Friday lunchtime with a suspected heart attack. An ambulance was called and the paramedics had suggested an ECG test which confirmed he had a heart murmur. They took him to the Good Hope Hospital in Birmingham and was released later that same evening. The following day, Saturday, he complained again of pain and collapsed. He passed away on Saturday morning with his wife by his side.
Being in the office today has been hard. It's hard to describe quite what I feel. Dave was an impatient, tempestuous man who loved to complain about anything and everything but when he wasn't talking or thinking about work, he was lovely. He was always the first one in the office in the morning and would always say good morning to everyone who passed the end of his desk. I had helped him on many occasions sorting out technical problems and sending across his paperwork to the art studio. I suggested one morning to him to write down what I was doing so he would know for the future if ever I was off. He wrote down every detail as I was telling him. But every week, when Tuesday rolled down he would shift from one foot to the other standing over my desk asking me to help him again. Of course I helped him. It took two seconds out of my day but if it made him that little bit calmer, I did it.
A year or so ago, I was talking to another colleague about my travels to Australia. Something I love to talk about, when Dave chipped in and said his daughter had once done the same after she finished university and I remember us having a conversation about how he felt with her across the other side of the world and how he knew what my mum felt.
He was distant and never usually talked of his family, so it came as a bit of a surprise when he joined in our conversation.
Today, I can't stop thinking about him and his family. The impact it has had on them so suddenly. He hadn't even been ill. One minute he was there and the next- just an empty place at the table. It's hard from our point of view. He left to go to the hospital so suddenly on Friday afternoon that all of his possessions were still on his desk this morning. His pens, his laptop, his car keys. The car is still out in the car park and there is a bag of sweets on his desk that he won on the sales day on Friday morning. We've had to go through his desk and sort the bits and pieces out. We've had his customers calling asking to speak to him, oblivious of what has happened. It's been very hard and I've had a lump in the back of my throat all day trying not to cry.
I feel that I'm expecting to see him walking down the office in a minute complaining about his March target. I glance over at his empty desk and expect him to be sitting there- it makes me feel so sad. The ironic thing is that he won salesperson of the month in November last year- something which has just been announced but he will never get to collect his certificate or his prize money.
What makes things worse is that I spend more time with my work colleagues than I do with my family and friends. It makes me physically sick to think that I spend more time at work, trying to earn cold, hard cash to buy materialistic things than I do with the people I love most in the world. It makes me want to take 2 weeks off work or to the extreme, quit my job. I just can't seem to get my head around the fact that he's gone. That it could happen to any one person at any given time.
It's given me a massive dose of reality. The money that I have saved in the bank- I'm going to spend it. I'm going to do the things I want to do. I'm not going to let my job rule my life. If I quit tomorrow, I could find another one closer to my loved ones. I'm not going to pick up the phone or text, I'm going to visit people. I already have a dinner and a sleepover at my mum's, lunch with 2 old friends that I haven't seen in a while and a catch up and a cup of tea with my best friend and my god- daughter, planned for this weekend. I'm not going to spends evenings watching soaps or rubbish TV when I can be out down the pub with my friends making memories. I'm not going to spend day after day obsessing with my weight, if I want to eat something, I'll eat it. Life is too short to say, 'What if I had more money', or 'What if I just do the holiday of a lifetime next year instead.' Do it now. Book that holiday, visit that old friend, quit your job if you're not happy. Surround yourself with people who love you and get rid of those who make you unhappy.
My tribute to Dave is to live my life the way I've always wanted to. To own my own magazine, to own a beautiful house and fill it with kids and dogs and marry the person I love. I want my life to be filled with the things that I want. Lastly, I'm going to tell the people that I love, that simply, I love them.
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