My department manager has been away “on holidays” for the last four weeks, but, although there are obvious benefits of her absence (which I won’t elaborate on here), it has not so much been her absence but the presence of certain others that has given me the conviction that these four weeks are among the best weeks I’ve ever had, and will have, in my pharmacy career. (This is a big call, but I wouldn’t be writing it down if I didn’t truly believe it. And, you know, even if this doesn’t always hold true, it is enough, for me, that it was true at this point in time.)
Undoubtedly, it is also certain impending departures that have evoked in me a desire to treasure these last four weeks with all members of my dearest work family still together. I know I don’t usually write about this sort of stuff here, but I feel it is an appropriate reflection of the state of my mind. These departures (the confirmed ones and, shall we say, the intended one) were the motivation behind my “love regardless” post (…people will always be coming and going), although I’d never intended to share that one.
(Even as I write this post, I’m not sure that I should publish it as a public post… But I know that I’d regret not posting this more than I could possibly regret posting this.)
Not to discredit various other people I’ve worked with, but, right now, I cannot imagine working with a better team of pharmacists in this particular setting. Likewise, I cannot imagine how different my life would have been if I’d never met any one of them. It is in these moments of sentimental contemplation that I feel incredibly grateful for the long sequence of events that brought our various paths together.
I’m writing this post at the same time that I’m nearing the end of David Copperfield, and I thought this quote, spoken by the wise and jovial Mr Omer (who is a “funeral furnisher”), was rather fitting:
‘Because, sir, the way I look at it is, that we are all drawing on to the bottom of the hill, whatever age we are, on account of time never standing still for a single moment. So let us always do a kindness, and be over-rejoiced. To be sure!’
It is not that I am anticipating anything nearly as grave as death, but “the bottom of the hill” may represent any sort of ending, or the closing of a chapter of one’s life.
These four weeks have gone by too quickly, with days blurring into each other, but I would like to think that I have followed Mr Omer’s advice, even without knowing it from the start.