R.I.P., MEB

Today I received news that a longtime colleague of mine passed away after a battle with brain cancer.

I knew she was ill and I was in contact with her through the spring. In the past couple of months, her condition worsened. She was lucky to have two caring brothers and a core group of friends to give her round-the-clock support until the very end and they even set up a Yahoo Groups site to communicate with each other and with us.

She knew what she was up against. I spoke with her not long after her diagnosis last summer. Her cancer was a really invasive one: glia, I believe it's called. The prognosis was horrible and there was no reason to believe she would beat the odds. She was very clear about it and quickly set about with organizing her papers and her affairs while she was still able. She was pragmatic above all else.

Even if she had survived, the affected area of her brain was the part that processes language. She lost the ability to communicate: both what she said, and what was said to her. I can't think of what could be worse for someone who valued words, language, and clarity more than anything else. At first, it was just a few words here and there, but when I saw her a few months ago, she had trouble remembering the name of her cat.

I worked with her for 10 years. In fact, we used to live on the same street and commuted together to work until we both moved elsewhere in the late '90s. For seven years, our cubicles were next to each other. I think the biggest shock for me was when she was diagnosed: knowing that she would never -- and could never -- be again the person I used to know, the natural-born mentor of editors.

The news today was less of a shock, at least so far. Her condition had worsened to the degree that there was nowhere left to go but death. That doesn't make it any easier. So tonight I am thinking of Marjorie: the most passionately erudite editor I've ever known. Rest in peace.