Fatma Jiwa is one of a kind. I know that sounds cliché. I don’t care.
She’ll tell you the kind of day she’s having – millions of
e-mails, looming deadlines, no lunch break – and you’d swear
she’s describing her last vacation. Fatma doesn’t let the world get her down. I
wish I were like that.
You can bet your life savings on the fact that Fatma will
have a smile on her face each time you see
her. Her infectious laugh drifts through the
clinic, seemingly lightening the mood of even the most cantankerous.
Fatma’s unwavering
optimism keeps me going each day. She is a walking billboard for the adage that
we are each responsible for our own
happiness. She doesn’t allow life’s curveballs to break her spirit, and I love
her for that.
As I’ve said, Fatma is one
of a kind.
-----------------
late 14c., "death," from Middle French obit or directly from Latin obitus "death," noun use of past participle of obire "to die," literally "to go toward" (see obituary). In modern usage (since 1874) it is usually a clipped form of obituary, though it had the same meaning of "published death notice" 15c.-17c.
plural vitae, Latin, literally "life," from PIE root *gwei- "to live."
While recently watching Rex Murphy’s tribute to my late father, I was saddened that my father wasn’t able to hear Murphy’s wonderful words. I’ve decided to write pieces that are dedicated to telling the people in my life how great I think they are. I call them “Vituaries.”
No comments:
Post a Comment