RIP: Patricia Cole A Witty NPR Copy Editor, My Loyal And Caring Friend
I lost my darling friend Patricia Cole this weekend, and to say I’m heartbroken is an understatement.
This hurts so bad.
P. Cole, as I love to call her and I became friends almost immediately after meeting when she joined NPR a few years ago. She was brilliant, kind, smart, witty, funny, even more sarcastic than I — a rare and precious find that enhanced our bond.
It’s a bond that for the most existed among many of us who worked weekends in the newsroom. At the time, I was NPR’s lead weekend digital editor and Patricia, one of our ace copy editors worked on Saturdays, and that’s when and where we created many memorable moments.
Patricia often confided in me her struggles with mental illness and depression. In fact, she was very open about these challenges with several of us with whom she worked, and was the first person whom I’d met to be so forthright about her situation. This was particularly helpful in teaching me how to not only successfully work with her but how to be a loving, supportive friend.
Among my favorite newsroom moments with Patricia would be the Saturdays when I’d stop by her desk to offer her fave — some Earl Grey tea and some of my Bajan tea biscuits. Her face would light up as she sprung to her feet and hugged me.
She took particular delight in sharing with the newsroom manager, Jim, and me letters readers would write us making “corrections” to stories online — but their “corrections” would be incorrect.
P. Cole would also often record me doing fun things in the newsroom. Like eating a fried “broken” chicken while singing Mister Mister’s “Broken Wings.” Or me being silly dressing up for the royal wedding (Meghan & Harry) while eating homemade cucumber sandwiches and sipping English tea. Or of the two us acting like princesses, tiara to boot!
Yes, it was fun to work with P. Cole but what I loved most about her was how deeply she cared. I lost a few loved ones shortly after we started working together and Patricia never failed to check up on me to see how I was healing.
Last spring she lost her NPR job and expressed to me concerns she had mentally, financially, professionally, emotionally. Yet when I was going through my own trauma last summer and fall, Patricia was ever present reaching out to make sure I was OK, encouraging me to keep pushing through, reminding me that she loves me.
In response to one “thank you” message I sent her, she said: “I am sorry you have been going through so much and I hope I provided a little comfort.” She did, indeed.
P. Cole knew holidays are usually tough for me, that I often have to spend them alone, and in November while still going through my trauma, she was the first person to reach out for Thanksgiving Day: “Happy Thanksgiving, darling. Sending you blessings and hugs.”
We always sent each other Christmas cards; hers always carried a signature that it was coming from her and her beloved cat, Hudson. In early December when I reached out to confirm that she was still at the same mailing address, she texted: “I’m not doing cards this year but I love you.” That was an unusual first, and signaled to me that things were perhaps more dire than I understood.
In that same conversation, I’d complained about the weather here in Los Angeles to which she responded re: the New Yorker in me: “ ‘it’s freaking cold in LA’ is not something one expects to hear. Someone’s getting soft!”
Yes, even amid her challenges, P. Cole kept her sense of humor.
We spoke a few more times in December and again around my birthday at the end of January. Then I tried calling her earlier this month but no answer. No callback.
Later on she responded to my voicemail, texting thanks and saying she was “stumbling” at present but would reach out in a bit.
That was the last communication I received from my friend.
I awoke this morning to messages from a couple of NPR friends who knew she and I were close checking to see if I was OK, letting me know that her brother, Michael, had posted that she lost her battle with depression.
Our world has lost a most beautiful soul, I’m almost paralyzed with pain.
P. Cole, I hope, in fact, I know you know how much I loved you. I sure always felt your love and I’m thankful for it, and you. I pray that you are at peace.
My condolences to all who mourn you, including Hudson, of course. Rest in sweet peace, my darling and rise in glory. I will miss you.
P.S.: Please be kind to one another. Life is too short.
Morning by morning new mercies I see,
Island Soul City Dreams 