Yesterday at work we all received a letter, asking us to check and update our address and emergency contacts they have on file for us.

I turned the letter over to look at my information and there it was. Her name. Her name as my emergency contact. And the tears hit me instantly. Before I could even grasp what was happening.

I read her name and cried. I read her home phone number and cried. I read her work phone number and cried. These numbers that were committed to memory, dialing them multiple times a day sometimes, numbers that I had not thought of for almost 4 years.

But there they were. In print. In front of me.

I emailed my friend at work and received lovely encouragement. Then I called another friend at work who has been through a similar loss, and they made me laugh through my tears.

But each time I took my blue pen to the paper with the intention of crossing her name out, I couldn’t do it. I physically was unable to cross out her name. Plus, they had it written wrong, which added to the sadness.

So instead, I wrote the updated information around her name and left the form with my friend to cross our her name for me and return the form to HR.

I couldn’t do it.

emergency contact