No judgement

This is a letter I received last week from a friend and law firm co-worker of Anita’s. I love reading things tlike this because it reminds me of many little things that I sometimes lose sight of.

I was 26 when I met Anita. She started as a senior associate in the litigation section at Holland & Knight. I was a second year associate. Anita was my first true mentor.

I don’t remember the first time I met Anita but not too long after that first meeting, I felt like I had known her for a very long time. I didn’t typically feel comfortable around my co-workers, particularly not older associates or partners. Anita put me at ease. She wasn’t judging. She was being. And around Anita you were free to be as well.

We were put on a big case together a few months after she started. I could tell that the trusted her and soon she was running the show. We checked in with him once a week. I remember how Anita was in those meetings – the perfect combination of professional and funny. So comfortable in her own skin. She wasn’t worried about fitting into some stereotype of how a lawyer should act or how a woman should act. She was herself. And everyone loved her.

Unlike Anita, I wasn’t comfortable. I never knew what to say to the partner – he was old and formal – what did we have in common? One time, Anita told me that he didn’t think I had a sense of humor. Anita told him “Maybe she just doesn’t think you’re funny. Jane’s hilarious.” I laughed so hard. I couldn’t believe she said that. She told me to treat him like any other person, she told me he valued my opinion, and he wanted to know me as a person. That one conversation changed the way I interacted with my bosses.

I remember working late one night on a document review. Anita and I were the only two people left at workI don’t remember how it came up but I must have mentioned my mother. Most people wouldn’t notice – but Anita did. She put down her piece of paper and said “You’re mom must be an amazing woman.” It was a statement, a question, and a testament. And my eyes immediately filled with tears. Anita knew how to get to what was really important to you. She knew because she actually listened. No one had ever asked me about my mom. Anita said “Tell me about her.” It was like she had all night for me. And we talked for a long time about how much I loved my mother, how strong I thought she was, how inspirational she was for me. Anita never interjected. She just listened and asked questions. She just let me share. And I ended up saying things that night that I didn’t even know I thought or felt.

I didn’t tell my mother that story until the drive back from Anita’s funeral. We both cried. My mother never met Anita. But I used to tell her stories about her, and my mother loved Anita because she knew that Anita looked out for me like no one else at that law firm ever did.

I remember little things. Like Anita used to read a lot of positive thinking/self help type books. She really liked The 7 Habits of Highley Effective People. She told me about the distinction between the urgent and the important. The urgent were the things with a pressing deadline. The important were the things that actually mattered that you overlooked attending to the urgent. I still use that distinction to this day. Anita used it with her family – always the most important and never to be overlooked.

Anita was committed to being a better person, a better wife, a better lawyer, a better sister, a better mother. She used to have quotes and prayer taped to the bottom of her computer screen. Anita strove to be humble. I’d worked with her for months before I learned that she worked for a prominent firm in Chicago. She told me that her and her colleagues used to work really long hours and often ordered dinner to the office. The firm would pay to keep them billing late into the night. She said it wasn’t bad because they were all working together.

She told me a story about getting picked up at an airport by a car service and the man being shocked that “Mrs. Schick” was a black woman. She was very comfortable with how she was. She could laugh at herself and the world.

I remember when she told me she was leaving the firm. She said “You know Jane, it just hit me about a month ago. I drove into the parking garage and I parked in the same spot I always park in and I just sat there with my hands on the steering wheel and I had that same feeling I had every morning – dread. And I knew in that moment that it was going to stay the same unless I did something different. Life is too short to be unhappy and away from your family.”

I admired her courage. And somehow I knew she’d be okay – whatever she did. She was a strong woman.

Everybody knew how important Anita’s family was to her—especially her kids. She would talk about Julie and Ben like they were adults instead of children. She learned from them and she loved telling you the lessons they taught her.

Greg would frequently call while I was in Anita’s office. She would always answer. Not like the other attorneys who ignored their spouse’s call. No matter what we were doing or who was in her office, Anita would politely say “Excuse me. It’s my husband” and then she would answer “Hi Sweetheart.” And he would tell her that he picked up the kids and they were on their way to swim practice or something like that. The conversation wouldn’t last long but I knew it was important that he checked in and she felt a little more a part of what was going on in their lives that day.

Sometime Anita’s sister would call. She was an accountant and I could tell they were very close. They would help each other out with work questions and little life dilemmas. I always wondered if she was as powerful a woman as Anita. I picture her at her desk in a suit—two accomplished sisters sharing advice.

I only remember meeting Anita’s husband and children once. They came to the office one night when we were working late. Greg had on denim cargo shorts and a McDonald’s bag in his hand and the kids had Happy Meals. They must have driven far from Kennesaw to have dinner with Anita in her office. I met them in the hall and they were so polite. True to Anita’s stories they seemed much older than they were. They must have been only 4 and 5. Anita didn’t fuss over them like they were babies. She treated them like adults. I could see in her eyes when they talked how proud they made her.

Anita was one of the few people in the office who I told I was gay. It felt very natural and easy to tell her. I told her about the trouble I was having with my girlfriend. She listened and asked questions and gave me advice that I don’t remember. I do remember feeling heard. I remember there was no judgment there. I didn’t realize how religious Anita was until the funeral. Isn’t it amazing that of all the people in that office, I was most comfortable telling her.

My friend Sarah used to talk to Anita about her boyfriend troubles. Sarah got married last year and says she might not have stayed with her husband if not for Anita’s advice. Anita told us “you can have 8 out of 10 but you can’t have all 10.” Anita told us that marriage and commitment is hard work. You have to work at it every day. You can’t let life beat you down and make you angry and take that anger out on those you love. You have to build your loved ones up. And be their rock and give them the love they want and need.

Anita wasn’t perfect and she wasn’t afraid of that. She wasn’t afraid to admit when she messed up and apologize and recommit to being the person she wanted to be. Constantly striving to live her faith. Knowing that she was only human – but constantly striving.

It’s been a little over a year since Anita died. I still have her number in my cell phone. I still have her business card tacked to my wall. I will never forget Anita and the presence she was in my life. She made an impression on me and changed me for the better. I hope that Greg, Julia, and Ben are well. I will continue to think of them, and Anita, whenever I think of strong women and the lives they impact.