Ode to Kelly Graf

Yesterday was Kelly’s last day at work and both Amanda and I have been suffering low-grade depression over her departure. I’ve been waking up most mornings feeling slightly blue and not at first sure why—until I remember, Oh, yes, Kelly’s leaving.

Of course, she is not moving to Alaska and will, in fact, be about five miles away as the city pigeon flies, but there won’t be a Kelly in her cubicle at work with her i-Pod on, coming up with brilliant ideas for how to snag alumni, and she won’t be in meetings with me any more where I spend half the time thinking of ways to make her laugh, and she won’t be walking with us to 7-11 to buy Diet Cokes and cigarettes. That is the hardest part about someone leaving, how it creates this hiccup in your day, a loss of the familiar.

For the record, I highly recommend her as an employee. She spent every second this week sweating to get everything done before her last day—was almost late for her fond farewell happy hour because she was trying to tie up loose ends and keep pace with more than one last minute edit and changes to projects. I almost had to slap her when she offered to take work home this weekend. I said, Kelly! You’re done. You’re not going to be paid for this. But she said “I feel bad…” She did not suffer at all from the f-you-itis most people leaving a job often come down with. On Friday, I heard her patiently disagreeing with an irrational vendor she never has to deal with ever again when she could’ve been like, “You know, Joe, I have to go. My skirt just caught on fire. Sorry!”

We will miss you, miss you, miss you and hope to have you in some classes next year!!!! KIT, BFF, remember the Alamo, and stay gold ponytail girl!