Dear, Paula: A Love Letter to My Mentor

I met Paula when I was working for the Aurora Public Library. She ran a small branch (I mean SMALL) in a North Aurora neighborhood, surrounded by schools and low income households. It was close to a main drag where the homeless population frequented. Paula loved that library. Because it was so small, she ran it almost entirely by herself. She knew everyone who came in and treated everyone with the respect and dignity that they deserved. The library patrons appreciated her kindness and often chatted her up during their visit. I learned a lot about Paula just watching her interact with other.

At some point, this small branch also became my home. I helped Paula with children's services the spanish-speaking population that frequented the library. I, by nature, am pretty crafty. Paula let me tap into that and I found myself doing almost everything dealing with children's programming in that branch...and I ran with it. I did story times, I did crafts, I went to local preschools and read to the kids, I was the main contact for the Summer Reading program for that branch...I set up displays, I decorated bulletin boards and made posters. I. Did. It. All. And I LOVED it.

We soon grew out of the little drafty space and we heard that a brand new library was being built for us to move into. Paula and I (almost entirely alone) packed up that library and moved into the new library. Together we planned the layout of the collection - all along, she treated me as a full partner. That move was really the beginning of our personal and professional relationship. She never treated me less that an equal. She trusted me to know the ins and outs of that branch, its collection, its customers. She pushed me to participate in the larger library community - to volunteer to be on committees and to attend workshops and conferences. She encouraged me to go back to school and helped me make the space in my life to fit a full time job and go to school full time. She was excited when I got A's and would always take time to say how proud she was of my accomplishments. She was my cheering squad...and I loved her for it.

Paula's cancer came back in the Fall of 2007. I held her hand under the table as she broke the news to our co-workers at a staff meeting. She continued to work, but was growing tired almost weekly. We ate lunch often, hardly speaking of how ill and frail she was becoming. We decided it wasn't important. What mattered was we had time and even though it was growing shorter...we would make the best of it.

I will never forget the last real conversation we had. We were having lunch at Wendy's (one of our favorite places) and she wanted to tell me that she had decided to stop or opt out of the aggressive cancer treatment. She was only going to take medicine that would make her "comfortable" but it also made her woozy and she wouldn't be able to visit very often anymore. We held hands and she told me she loved me and she was so very proud of me. I thanked her for everything. Everything. She had two requests for me. One, she didn't want me to see her sick. She couldn't bear to think how it may upset me and asked that towards the end that I not come to visit her.

And two..."Don't say 'goodbye'. This isn't 'goodbye.'"

Eventually, Paula stopped coming to work. While she was still well enough, she traveled. She visited her children for long extended periods. She tried to visit the library weekly to participate in the Knitting Circle, but soon could no longer make the trips. She couldn't drive. She was in a lot of pain. She slowly slipped away...

Paula passed away in April of 2008. In May of 2008 I walked across the stage and received my AA. It was bittersweet.

I carry her everywhere - she has made a profound impact on both my personal and professional life. So much so, that I am unsure that I would be her without her encouragement and support. I miss her terribly -  her laugh, her advice, her knowledge. I will always be grateful to her, knowing she took me under her librarian wing and taught me that you can do anything if you put you mind and heart into it. I owe a great deal to her in so many ways and was lucky to cross paths with her at the time that I did. To me, she was the essence of what a mentor is and should be...and has helped mold me into the paralibrarian I am today. I choose not to mourn her, but celebrate her for all that she was to me.

Supportive. Encouraging. Critical. Proud.

A teacher. A leader. A friend.

My friend.