Regrets, Secrets, Something I haven't told you

Yesterday I found out a, There's something I haven't told you.

A friend said those words and then followed it up with the something. Who the friend is doesn't matter, and what they said matters less. I learned this a long time ago.

When I was the Assistant Director of a biotechnology computer facility of a major university, (How is that for setting the stage?) I had the world's most wonderful boss. Her name was Martha. Everyone called her Marty. And in the year plus we worked together, she discovered her previous fight against cancer had come back with a vengeance.

It was everywhere they looked. Facing the battle head on, Marty endured many bouts with chemo, and radiation. She suffered sores, hair loss, loss of appetite, vomitting, exhaustion, and the aches and pains of fighting the spreading disease. For a while, the tumors showed signs of shrinking, but then the disease dug in its heels and it was a full body assault. Towards the end, when they wanted to do a CAT scan of her brain, she told them, "There are no cats in my head." We all smiled when she told us what she said. And I still smile when I think about it. But the truth being, if the cancer had spread there, there was nothing they would do, and she didn't want to know.

When my life pulled me out of the facility, I'll never forget those last few days we had working together. The backups done, no one looking for help with DNA or protein sequence analysis, we sat talked. No difference really from how the facility had run for the past year, but we could feel the end of our chatting was coming to a close.

I promised to come back and visit, after the baby was born. And I did, twice. She promised not to clear out my desk before the moving van had the chance to empty my house. And then in a natural pause in the conversation she said, "I have something to tell you."

As I type this I can see her face, and it's been over 15 years since that conversation.

"I have something to tell you." Marty's face was very serious.

"You said that already." I couldn't imagine what it could be. We were closer than sisters.

"I've been married more times than you know. There was one more."

I stopped her. Wouldn't let her say another word. I said then, and I said now, "Your experiences, both good and bad, are what made you who you are today. And I love you just the way you are."