Lost loved one gives new world perspective
Lost loved one gives new world perspective

By Paula Burkes Erickson

Published: December 25, 2007

I lost my best friend, Martha Collar, on Thanksgiving weekend.

We met at the Claremore Progress in 1984. You may remember my writing about Martha last Christmas, when business staff writers penned personal holiday stories. She was going home for the holidays, after spending 33 days in the hospital getting a hopeful bone marrow transplant at the University of Oklahoma Health Sciences Center.

My column theme? I believe in miracles.

I still believe this Christmas, despite — or perhaps because of — Martha's passing. There's nothing like losing a loved one to put one's whole world in perspective. To quote clichés that Martha — even before her cancer diagnosis 2½ years ago — used: Life is short. … Don't sweat the small stuff. … You can't take it with you. … Dance each day.

Martha modeled good business practices. Though she was a journalist by training, her legacy was working to prevent injuries in children. She served 19 years as coordinator of the Children's Hospital-based Safe Kids Coalition, building the program from scratch and working to pass lifesaving initiatives involving child safety seats, teen driving, bike helmets, four-wheelers and more.

She was active in numerous civic organizations, including the downtown Rotary and Leadership Oklahoma City.

If you called Martha at the office, you never could have more than a two-minute conversation. Focused and all-business, she was all but abrupt.

Many of my associates, including two of my neighbors and my massage therapist, know of Martha, though they never met her. Every Thursday morning for 10 years, she carried her injury prevention message over the air with Jack and Ron of KYIS Radio. Her words still ring, which is ironic since a stroke in July robbed her of her speech, as well as her ability to write.

Thankfully, she several months prior had written an essay "Everything I Need to Know … I Learned in the Hospital,” which she planned to share in church.

"I could write a book on the whole horrifying experience,” she wrote, "But the question I get most often from friends and acquaintances is: ‘How has this changed your life? What do you know now that you didn't know before?'”

The following is some of what she penned:

•I learned that I didn't miss work as much as I thought I would. During my recovery at home, I stayed perfectly occupied. People should not be defined by their work, although I realize that in this country that will probably never change. People are more than what they do for a living. (Although I have to admit — on the days when the most important thing I did was empty the dishwasher, I did miss that sense of accomplishment that comes from fulfilling work.)

•I learned that no one is even remotely indispensable. Each of us is a tiny, tiny speck in the universe and when we stop being, the world is not going to stop turning.

•I learned that most everyone (myself included) takes life MUCH too seriously. In fact, NOT doing this was my New Year's resolution. Everyone is going to die eventually, and we might as well have fun and laugh and throw a party while we still can.

•I learned that God does provide — strength, courage, patience, grace and peace — when we need it most.

As for me, I still believe this Christmas. Thank you, Martha.

Your thoughts!