Stacy

In the early days of my final technical job, I worked on projects managed by a big, beautiful, extremely-competent woman named Stacy.

She was tough to work for, expecting nothing but 100% pure commitment from me—never mind that I didn’t completely know what I was doing.

She made me look good by being so competent herself, and she liked it that I tried hard.

She was a lot younger than the other project managers, some of whom were quite mean to her, I thought, 

maybe because she wasn’t deferential, and she accepted the power that was due her.

I think she had a difficult personal life. I overheard part of a breakup conversation with a boyfriend: “We don’t have much of a relationship,” she said. “We just have sex and then you yell at me for the rest of the day.”

She also had cancer at some point, but it was in remission.

She knew how to relax too—it didn’t take her long to put away a few beers at after-work celebration events.

She soon left my group, taking a better-paying position in another part of the company, and then leaving for a smaller firm at which I think she became a director of marketing.

And now she has a high-level job at a big med-tech company.

We became Facebook friends—I must have friended her—and a few years ago, I started seeing charming, funny posts about her son Elan.

At some point she evidently decided that she wanted to have a child, and she did it completely on her own responsibility—there’s no apparent father in the picture.

She calls Elan her lion.

Here’s the post I saw today: 
Last night, Elan and I each told a bedtime story. His involved a fire in our house. I almost got out, but then had to go back in for my phone.
I explained that I would just leave it, it is not as important as getting out safely, but the fact that I had to explain that to him is a cautionary tale.
Told by someone on her phone now. And now. And still...now.

Sometimes in life you meet people who are just plain admirable.