Sophie and I met when I joined the European Disability Forum. A pillar of the organisation, she was welcoming and always had time to give advice and provide support. She was a true professional. She would walk up and down the long corridors of the European Parliament, in Brussels and Strasbourg, often late in the day, handing out policy papers and rounding up “her” MEPS as she called them, for meetings of the Disability Intergroup. We travelled together to many (soon-to-be) new Member States in central and eastern Europe, where she would inspire others to believe that they could work together to make the world a better place. Her curiosity and interest in other people, cultures and countries, led her to work in Pristina and Skopje. She loved working and living in both countries. Wherever she went, politicians, civil servants, taxi drivers, doormen, consultants, all would know Sophie. Some would fear her, most would admire her, nobody could fail to appreciate her dedication to her work.
Sophie was committed, professional, humble, kind, caring, a loyal friend, interested in others, inspiring. She did serious work but did not take herself seriously.
In Brussels we shared an open plan office and I had my back turned to her. I would hear her cajole European Commission staff and MEPs on the phone - she usually got her way! We would share jokes and the latest office gossip. She would throw out politically incorrect statements (“all [add any nationality] men are fat”….), take a short breath and then burst out laughing at what she had just said, her shoulders heaving up and down. She wasn’t fake. You could see immediately what Sophie thought about an issue or a person.
One way or another Sophie would have us all, colleagues and friends, eating out of her hand. She had different approaches - sometimes she would be blunt. Sometimes she would give you a helpless look. She would be persistent. And nobody who experienced it could forget the Sophie stare - how many waiters and taxi drivers buckled under the pressure of it, agreeing to do what several moments earlier they had said was impossible.
When she visited me, I would have to carry her up three flights of stairs to my apartment. Half-way to two-thirds of the way up, as I struggled for breath, Sophie would point out that they carried her “better” in Kosovo. I should have dropped her there and then. She would still be giggling about it when we finally reached the third floor.
I never met a better driver. Safe, fast but never furious.
I last saw Sophie just before the European lockdowns started. We hadn’t met for a while, but it seemed like only yesterday. She was her usual cheery self. We discussed Kosovo and Macedonia (a big fan of both), Brexit (against), Brussels (for and against), Trump (obviously against)… we joked and laughed together. As always, we had fun.
Sophie was the best of us. She was a wonderful person to be with, both as a colleague and a friend. I will miss her, I already do.
Condolences to her sister and all her family and friends.