I met Friederike at our company's annual user conference a few years ago. Like everyone else who meets Friederike for the first time, I was struck by her grace. She had a lovely, engaging smile and that rare ability to focus on the person she was talking to, as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment. Her eyes, the way she looked directly at you, her smile, her whole expression let you know that you had her complete attention. She also had the most beautiful posture of anyone I've ever met. That's important, because it wasn't just the way she stood or the graceful way she walked that caught your attention. Rather it was the fact that that was how she approached the world. She stood up and faced it straight on, with dignity and grace.
I asked her about it one day at our conference. And those who were there will remember me lying as flat as possible on the floor in the middle of the organiser's office, surrounded by all the chaos of a conference in full swing, with Friederike giving me lessons on how to improve my posture. Patiently, she showed me how to flatten my back, vertebrae by vertebrae, slowly pushing it against the floor; and she told me that if I practiced every day I would eventually develop beautiful posture too.
When I heard about Friederike losing her battle, I remembered that moment. Despite being a terrible student, I had learned something valuable from her. With herself as a model, and without ever really trying to, Friederike had taught me to stand a little taller.
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