Recently, I lost an extraordinary friend. I often find the most extraordinary people are usually sitting close to us in a room. They are typically the people who seem to avoid attention. They literally look for ways to hide in the shadows like Batman. I'm sure some of my colleagues would laugh at the thought of Wilsa being equated to Batman, but this was Wilsa, a fierce protector of people, who never sought glory for herself, but often gave herself for the people she loved.
Wilsa loved well. She always seemed to be able to find a place in her heart to give love to people. When you were with her, she never seemed to make you feel like a burden but rather like the most important person in the room. She had this smile and laugh that was contagious. You could feel the joy of her soul engulf yours and often times, you'd be laughing and smiling with her.
Over the course of 6 years, Wilsa would share pieces of her story with me. Wilsa was born in Haiti and very proud of her Haitian heritage. She would become joyful when someone would speak French to her. As my office mates and myself often would catch her speaking or singing to herself in French. Wilsa would share her love for the the island and tell stories of her time.
Wilsa also revealed to me that she was a doctor. Apparently everyone seemed to know this but I was a bit slow to the party. She was practicing medicine while in Haiti which made sense because Wilsa was very bright. She understood the workings of the medical system usually to the determent of her doctors. I like to believe the doctors enjoyed Wilsa but I also imagine Wilsa could be a hard patient.
Wilsa didn't beat around the bush when it came to her speaking her mind. She was straightforward and honest. As I worked with her, I knew people struggled because she just say what needed to be said. It didn't matter if it was hard to hear, she said it. I remember often wondering if she was only like this in the workforce, but it turns out she was like this with her doctors, friends, and especially her family.
The reason for this is because she could see the unlocked potential of a person. Wilsa didn't want people to take the easy way because she knew if you'd push passed the barriers in front of you, you'd grow into the person God desired you to be.
She loved well. Wilsa experienced her own personal traumas in life but didn't let it define her as a person. She used all that she experienced to influence and help others. I was recently told a story about Wilsa by one of my friends about when Haiti experienced a natural disaster. She had a house in Haiti where she opened the doors to support other neighbours effected by the event. She brought people into her home and let them stay for about a month providing food and all. This is how Wilsa loved.
Wilsa desired to help. It wasn't out of this desire to be a social warrior but because of her faith. She believed what Jesus said and did and embodied it. I worked in an office with her and would listen to her speak with others on the phone. When she returned to campus during the Covid years, she would deal with people who were experiencing Covid. She would call them and check in but she would also sometimes just talk with them for a bit. She'd make sure the needs were met but also laugh and try to give them joy in the midst of not feeling well.
I'd also see this when she interacted with people on her caseload. She was an encourager of moving forward and making goals. She didn't let people make excuses but would push back and remind them to do well. She would do this to me too. I wasn't able to escape Wilsa's encouragement to strive for my full potential.
I remember I hit a snag at my job. I felt extremely discouraged and like I was going nowhere. I was working 2nd shift, thinking about how I was missing out on my kids days and most of all saying goodnight at bedtime. I remember feeling bad when Beka would be sleeping when I got home and leave quite early when she had to go to work. I felt done with my job but I couldn't go anywhere and was stuck.
I remember sitting with Wilsa and telling her maybe God is done with me at my job and I needed to move on. She just sat there and listened. She took in every word and when I was done, she looked at me and smiled. She then proceeded to tell me to knock it off and realize that God will provide clarity but to see that everything I do matters. It matter to the people I worked for, it mattered for Beka, and it mattered for my kids. She gave me the slap back to reality I needed.
She would go on sharing wisdom tidbits with me in our longwinded conversations in the case manager office. In one of our last conversations that I remember, we talked about her health and her life and she shared being tired. Her motivation was her family and seeing her daughter graduate college but she would acknowledge it wasn't up to her. I remember her telling me that regardless of what happens, she was happy with life. There is a part of me that wondered if she knew that her days were slowly dwindling.
I have many stories of Wilsa I could share, the times she would dance to 80's music in the office, or how she would ask how to pronounce certain words and go onto remind us English is her second language, but I would need to write a book for all those stories. Plus, there are others who have so many more stories of the amazing life Wilsa lead.
Wilsa was an amazing woman who deserves to be celebrated. She would show up to work even when her health was declining, even when she had to use a wall to keep her balance, because she would not let her health steal her joy. She taught me to value each day, each interaction, each mundane moment of paperwork, because it was a gift that God gave us.
Wilsa's faith kept her strong in her battle. I'm sure she had her moments of doubts but I know she trusted Jesus more. Wilsa taught me that faith is a struggle but one worth going through. Wilsa was extraordinary. She was a super hero. Most of all she was my friend and friend to many. She was also felt like family. She loved my wife and kids so well, like she loved so many.
I loved my friend Wilsa. I will miss her deeply. Even as I write this, I know when I walk into my shared office, there will be this feeling of void. I am grateful to God for each day I had to know Wilsa. I'm also grateful that our stories crossed and I got to be a small part of it. Rest well Wilsa, I know we'll meet again someday.
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