The Washington Post and The New York Times and The Drudge Report and all the other media we look to every day were full of bad news on Monday, but by far the saddest thing we read was on Facebook, where we learned of the death of our dear friend Cheryl Capps at the too-young age of 64.
You probably never knew her, but if you had would have loved her, because she was irresistibly lovable. So far as we can tell everybody thought so, except for maybe a couple of incompetent bosses whose butts she refused to kiss during her locally legendary career in media and pubic relations. She was fun and funny and brutally and delightfully frank, sweet and sunny and sassy, always interested in how you’re doing and genuinely delighted by the good news and sincerely saddened by the bad, which you could always feel blissfully free to share in either case.
We’re told she died of pancreatic cancer that spread to her liver, but we can’t help feeling she was also yet another victim of the coronavirus. A couple of very excellent women we know made sure her last days were comfortably spent in a charming small Kansas town outside Wichita, but the protocols of the coronavirus prevented even her family and closest friends from dropping by to give her a loving farewell. She well deserves a funeral or memorial service attended by her many hundreds of adoring friends around here and in Arkansas, who could share in a celebration of her life and the joy it brought to the world and also share the grief they feel, but for now that’s not possible.
She won’t soon be forgotten, and at some point in the near or distant future we’ll all get together and hug one another in memory of Cheryl Capps, but for now it’s another very hard thing about this moment in time. Good people die every day all over the world, and potentially good people are born every day, but for now it’s impossible for the families and friends to properly commemorate these occasions. After losing such an extraordinarily empathetic friend as Cheryl Capps, we somehow feel both a heartening touch of all the love and a painful awareness of the sorrow that people all over the world are experiencing at this awful moment in time.
— Bud Norman