Sue (or in a season of flue)

As usual, I caught it when everyone else had already forgotten about it a long time ago. Like it happens each year with the flue. Actually, it was mother who started to caugh like a machine gun. She took antibiotics for a week that she spent mostly in bed, but the caughing still wouldn't leave her.

I gave in about a week later, but went to a few job interviews yet, before it got serious. But I've still not heard anything from these employees, so Easter didn't turn out that happy this year. Though we've survived. I mean it literally.

Mom felt better today and went down for a walk. She returned somewhat different, though I couldn't tell what it was. Then she told me that a neighbour we used to chat with quite a lot, but haven't seen for a long while, had died.

She passed away in early January, just like Bowie did. She was 68, almost like him. And died of cancer, the same reason. But held out till the end very actively, exactly like him. Mom's part was about our neighbour, and in turn I replied to her, naming my big favorite. I just can't bear to see her cry, so I tried to distract her.

Sue, a colleague from my last job, told us upon her leave, that such relationships - that is the ones from work - wouldn't last too long afterwards, anyhow. And, in a way, she was right, because she's managed to disappear rather effectively and permanently from our lives.

However, some of us from there - though almost everyone I worked with, has left by now - still keep in touch. And we naughtily refer to Sue, and the things she used to say. But that's just the way we like it. Keep in touch, if not otherwise, then keeping the memory alive.