I first met Lora in 2002, when her boss, Jason, hired me as a coach. Lora was the easiest staff convert I've ever known. From the very first moment that I met her, she was a happy addition to my life. We didn't need a "dating" period to work well together. She warmed up to me instantly, and helped me implement systems that got a fast result. She was my ally, friend, co-worker and muse. Above all, she was loyal to Jason's success. Lora Stockton was also one of the most upbeat, friendly and caring people I can claim to know. She had a powerful and immediate ability to connect with strangers. You can imagine how those close to her felt about her. In the years since then, Jason has taken a place in my heart beyond the simplicity of "Client". His reaction to Lora's death is one of controlled grief and deep personal loss.

You can imagine why. Jason hired Lora before he ever opened his office. They spent day one together, and she spent subsequent years at chair-side, comforting patients undergoing dental treatment. When her energy impacted his clinical skills (he had a tough time managing her enthusiasm; the girl *was* happy), she moved into the scheduling coordinator position. It was there that she achieved greatness.

 
Lora knew everyone. She had a brain that collected and held on to seemingly irrelevant facts about every person, and she could conjure up that information at the glimpse of a face or a called-out surname. Let's face it though; she didn't need to know your name to make you feel at home. She "was" home. She played six degrees of separation every day, linking this patient with that one. She knew more about the town than its residents.

Lora specialized in making patients feel needed. She could fill the entire schedule with a few quick phone calls. Thinking about cancelling your appointment at the last minute? Ha! Not on Lora's watch. She could sweet-talk the most determined person out of any other plans, and make them feel that it was their idea to come in today and get that (fill in the blank).

She was a master of relationships. That might explain why, three weeks ago, I stood in a slow-moving line for over an hour for the privilege of standing on front of her casket. She looked beautiful. Her body was laid out in the town she worked in, not her home town...but location wasn't an issue. There were literally hundreds of people in line after me. Each of them was there for some kindness she had shown them; some sweet favor she had done.