I'd like to tell you a story about Ginny She worked as a secretary in the [government agency].
I was talking to her in the hall one day, and noticed she had on purple suede Birkenstocks. I commented on that, and she told me about the poem. I looked it up on the internet, and it informed our chance meetings in the hall. I noticed she wore a lot of purple items -- some times a blouse, sometimes pants or a skirt, sometimes just an accessory.
She said she was living life to its fullest.
She never told me she had been diagnosed with terminal cancer.
In fact, she told very few people.
The absences from work started, and then became more frequent.
But when she was at work, she was almost always happy and cheerful.
The news, though, leaked out. I commented on it. A pained look crossed her face, and she told me that she did not want sympathy. I told her that I would not offer it.
We went back to commenting on the purple she wore
And how nice the day was
And how stupid so-and-so had behaved in that meeting
Her last absence went on for two weeks
it ended with the announcement that she had finally died.
Thank you, Ginny. You taught me how to live
Karen