Margie’s passing has touched me in ways I never expected. The weight of her absence lingers, making even the simplest moments at work feel heavier. Once, I poured myself into my role at a multinational company, believing in the significance of my work and the impact I had on those around me. But her loss has forced a difficult realization—work is fleeting. Beyond a paycheck, the people you share your days with aren’t truly your people. When the tides turn, self-preservation comes first, and the pressures of perfection overshadow any kindness or grace.
As long as others benefit from your efforts, they are content. Yet the moment you falter, your mistake becomes public record—forwarded to managers, amplified for scrutiny. Never mind the times you quietly covered for their own missteps. And so, day after day, we pour so much of ourselves into relationships that exist within office walls, unaware of how little they truly mean when faced with something as profound as loss.
“Work is just business, it’s not personal,” they say. But those words often serve as an excuse for indifference, a justification for behavior that lacks compassion. And yet, these are the people we navigate, the ones who shape the majority of our waking hours.
Margie gave 17 years to this company. Now, she is gone. The dedication, late nights, and sacrifices she made—the ways she lifted others—vanish in an instant. I reached out to people she once worked closely with, hoping they would recognize the weight of her passing, but their replies were fleeting: “So sad.” That was all. These were the same people she missed family dinners for, the ones she prioritized over moments she could never get back. And while her loved ones grieve, life at work moves on without pause.
I suppose this is the world we live in. Perhaps I was naive to think it was different. Deep down, I think I always knew—but experiencing it like this makes it impossible to ignore.
Her absence is profound. I miss her
— Sandy
The Inner Workings of My Thoughts 