Krista and I met working one of the most dreadful shifts in local TV news: Saturday nights. She was a producer. I was a reporter. While our peers pursued their weekend social lives, we chased stories.
One advantage of working Saturday nights: The managers’ offices went dark. The hooks of middle managers did not descend upon us. And Krista displayed courage and took the types of risks that inspired me to smile with respect after my initial surprise.
I was the only reporter working Saturday nights, and Krista often depended on me to provide a fresh story for the 9pm news. But she didn’t play it safe. She sent me to chase interviews that appeared impossible to obtain. I referred to this as the TV news version of Russian roulette. If the story fell through, Krista faced the inglorious prospect of finding a new lead story, essentially a back-up plan on a Saturday night. Our compressed timelines would not allow us a second chance, an opportunity to chase a second story if the first one fell through. More often than not, Krista’s risks paid off. We achieved what in our worlds’ seemed like the impossible. I’m not clear if the managers fully appreciated our achievements Monday morning, but we knew what we had accomplished and so did our competition.
We live in a world where most people appear self-absorbed. To me, this seemed hyper-accurate in TV news. I often avoided introducing co-workers to Loren. Krista was different. Loren always focused on one word to describe her: classy. And the characterization is a genuine fit.
Loren and Krista built a friendship. She created jewelry for Krista. Krista and I graduated to weekday shifts and Saturday nights changed. Loren and I enjoyed dinners with Krista and her husband, Jeff. We laughed during their Christmas parties and enjoyed visits to their family cabin. Krista threw us a baby shower.
When the recession struck, the TV station reassigned me from a special projects reporter back to the same type of general assignment reporter that once scurried for stories on Saturday nights. The station significantly slashed my salary. Word got around. People called me. Others cornered me in quiet conference rooms to hear the details. To me, most of the interest appeared shrouded in morbid curiosity. Only Krista and Jeff invited us over for dinner. She cooked up fancy grilled cheese sandwiches and displayed the type of empathy and understanding that symbolize true friendship.
Krista again showed courage when she left TV news to pursue a new career. I later left to build a business with Loren. (Krista provided us some initial work, becoming one of our first clients.) Krista and Jeff moved to a new neighborhood and unfortunately our dinners and visits together turned to texts and ultimately Facebook messages. It happens. You mean to reignite a friendship. You plan to make a phone call and for a variety of reasons, something distracts you.
When we learned Krista had passed away, Loren broke down in tears and I stood numb in disbelief. We feel the natural sadness and confusion. But we also feel the guilt of lost moments, those you miss when friendships slowly fade and life takes new paths. You focus on the time you meant to make a connection and didn’t.
I imagine most of us share this experience. We share the regret. Unfortunately, tragedy too often must deliver a lesson. I write when I feel at a loss for words. And I explained to Loren the importance of focusing on the moments we shared with Krista and not those we may have missed. The important lesson is not to wait, not to wait until you whittle down your to-do list before investing in family and friends. Not Facebook friends. Friends you see across dinner tables and over grilled cheese sandwiches. Within the last several weeks, Loren and I began reinvigorating some of the friendships we first created when younger. I am pleased to report seeing old friends and sharing funny stories face-to-face provide warmth we do not feel through Facebook and social media.
We had not reconnected with Krista but we are thankful for all the moments we shared and the pictures that ensure we don’t forget. We remember her generosity, empathy and most of all her class.
