Rashell Young: A Complete Life
Our Loss
There is nothing I or anyone could say at this time to minimize the grief in our shared loss. Like you, I’m fortunate that the circle of my life and Rashell’s intersected, even if briefly. I’m passing this along only to share with you some of my thoughts about that remarkable woman we all had the privilege to know.
We at least can be grateful that the pains of this life for Rashell are over. Personally, I don’t think of her as “gone,” only moved on. My belief is that she has taken her great light and life and love to another place. At the time of her passing, as in her life, she was surrounded by people she loved and who loved her. My sadness is not that she is gone, but because she is gone from us. My sorrow is for us: without her our world is a smaller and darker place. Yes, she wasn’t here long enough by our measure, but I believe she may have crammed two or three lifetimes’ worth of living into her time here.
Her Enduring Example
Even in her passing, Rashell is an example to the rest of us. I was taught that the root of the word “inspire” means not only to illuminate the mind, but also to breathe life into the body itself. She continues to inspire me and many others. She was not only filled with life while here, she animated the lives of others fortunate enough to come within her orbit. She made each of us feel more alive and her light increased ours. Isaac Newton spoke of those who came before him and said “we can see further because we stand on the shoulders of giants.” Rashell’s frame was slight but inside she was a giant on whose shoulders we can still stand to see further.
She believed in herself and her ability to overcome. She once told me that she had occasionally attended the group therapy sessions her physicians recommended, but she stopped going because she didn’t need the encouragement. She already had confidence in herself and her ability to overcome—which she did repeatedly. I expect the disease would have taken someone of lesser stuff long ago.
She became an example of faith to the rest of us. She taught us to believe in ourselves and encouraged us to be our best selves. I would often joke that she was my “therapist,” listening to my troubles and worries and then giving good advice in return. For someone who never married, she seemed to understand that relationship very well. Both my wife and I are grateful for her patiently tutoring me on the relationship between men and women. She is a good listener and heard me whine or vent or tell the same story for the tenth time. Because of her patience and empathy and decency, she may know more about me personally than anyone outside my family. She and I often joked about the “spinal injections” she gave when it was time for me to stand up to clients or when moral courage was needed. I tried to reciprocate in a small way by being her “office dad” (though I only managed to meet one or two of her boyfriends).
Her high standards even came out in small ways. While I was usually content to eat somewhere convenient or satisfy myself with fast food, she always encouraged us to eat better, to savor even that small part of life. She took the extra time to get the master’s degree in public health along with the MBA because she wanted to contribute. She desperately wanted to help other people and make the world a better place. She was a tireless true believer.
She also set a standard for us as professionals. Much of our work is in financial disputes and typically it was Rashell who would remind us what was fair or right or just. She was a conscience in settings where people need one. She would also give us courage to do the right thing or tell someone “no” when that was the right answer. Even when we had the facts or just more resources on our side, she always counseled fairness and decency. In law they call this “equity,” but with her it was an innate sense of care for others, especially the weaker among us. Sometimes we would be discussing a questionable issue and she would simply look me in the eye and just shake her head “no” and I knew what needed to be done. She was the reliable standard of decency. She still is, I believe, just in a different place.
She was a calming influence personally and professionally and she always took pride in the way she looked and sounded. She also did her best to keep me a little in touch with pop culture and technology. She was the one who introduced me to booking air travel online, software upgrades, iTunes, and much more.
Intersecting Lines
Our professional pairing was an unlikely alliance. She and I would joke that we lived in the same world but on different planets. I am the middle-aged white guy who lives in the ’burbs—sort of a contemporary version of Ozzie and Harriet. She was the modern single professional woman; always cool and enjoying the urban life and traveling the world. We did have a few things in common, though. We both lived in Spain when we were younger and we both have a respect for the military. Some of my family, like her parents, were also military. I never heard her say it, but I felt the love she had for this country and the best things it stands for.
Our paths intersected by accident—or fate or divine intervention. I’m not sure which, but I’m grateful it happened. Back in 1996 she had recently graduated from Cal and was working at Analysis Group when we first met. Marc Vellrath, her boss at the time and my colleague now, has always been good at spotting talent. I expect he saw the latent gifts and work ethic in the new grad. Over the years our relationship, like her career, would grow. She would move up from her entry-level position to become an analyst, a case manager, and—eventually—a testifying expert. Much of her education was self taught. Her on the job training included computers, accounting, finance, economics, and project management, though as an “old soul,” I don’t think she ever had to learn about dealing with people. On that she tutored the rest of us.
Over the years, I would come to rely on her not just for numerical analyses, but for perspective and wisdom. Almost no professional task (or person) could intimidate her, even a new equation or concept or situation. I called her “Chief Young” because she knew what needed to be done, mathematically, personally, organizationally, or ethically. (I understand she may have inherited that title from her parents.) I don’t know if she was completely fearless, but I never saw her scared—not when confronted with complex accounting issues or even the disease that eventually took her from us. I have never seen so much fight, so much heart, packed into such a small frame. (She once told me of how she stood up to two obnoxious guys on the bus. That story didn’t surprise me but only confirmed the size of her spirit.) She always stood tall because she always stood for right. Even at the end she never sought sympathy or favors—only the chance to do her job and contribute.
Many Gifts
Her academic degrees showed she had been blessed with brains, but it was her understanding of people and her ability to see the bigger picture that really set her apart. She simply could see things the rest of us did not. Maybe that came from having lived in many places and seen so many things. Her natural curiosity and travels led to an appreciation of other peoples and cultures. I think her enthusiasm for life and adventure may be bigger in her than anyone I’ve ever known. She and I debated many topics, including contemporary society, but she always was open and respectful, never condescending or dismissive.
An Inspiration
Over 300 years ago, writing in allegory, John Bunyan described someone on a journey—a pilgrim—in his work The Pilgrim’s Progress from This World to That Which Is to Come. As the journey of our friend and fellow pilgrim, Rashell, has taken her from us, I believe that for her—in Bunyan’s words— “all the trumpets sounded on the other side.” I believe she has gone on to a new life, free from the pains of this world to more adventures and yet more friends.
The word “departed” originally also referred to sailors going to sea, those on ships who slowly moved over the horizon and eventually from our sight. I believe that, like the sailors, Rashell is not gone, but gone only from our limited view standing here on shore. A motto for many sailors in more uncertain times was “safe home.” One poet writes
Beyond the dim horizon’s rim
Resound the welcome drums,
And while we’re crying, “There she goes!”
They are shouting, “Here she comes!”
We’re built to cruise for but a while
Upon this trackless sea
Until one day we sail away
Into infinity.
The Bible contains these words that we can now attribute to Rashell: “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course.” We move through this life in half light. But we have one fixed point to guide us that Rashell did not: we have her example of courage and faith. I’m grateful that during my time here, the path of my pilgrimage could intersect, even briefly, with hers. My life—our world—is better because of her brief time among us. I will keep her memory alive and honor her by trying to live my life with her courage, her strength, and her sense of right.
