Quo vadis

I feel slapped.  

The day was going well, and I left younger daughter happily listening to Michael Bublé Christmas music while preparing macaroni and cheese, went over to Demeter's, bearing Wednesday's lunch, courtesy of the local Japanese eatery.

Demeter looked up from her book.  "Did you know that Mary Helen died on November 13th?"

I froze, gaping at her.  

Mary Helen was diagnosed with ovarian cancer something like five years ago.  Immunotherapy, a relatively new break-through in cancer treatment, brought her a fair whack of quality living, reducing her pain and boosting her energy for a couple of years.  The final descent began a few months ago, while visiting friends and family in another province.  A "Go-Fund-Me" was set up to pay for the astronomical cost of bringing her back to Victoria via air ambulance.  (Demeter and I sent modest donations.)

The last report I'd heard, via Demeter's church, indicated that she was doing well in hospital and regaining some independence.

Then I had eye surgery.

Then I fell.

And there I was, reeling at this expected and unexpected news, realising that I hadn't checked Demeter's emails for more than six weeks, which is why neither Demeter nor I had heard.  Holding back tears, I set up email reminders for me to check every other day.  

Demeter herself seemed relatively unmoved.  She's at that stage of life, when letting people go has become a necessity.  It's a necessity for me, too, I guess, but I'm still pretty bad at it.

Mary Helen was one of the most centred people I've known. She was one of those highly organised, capable women, who did not use her capabilities and organisation to bludgeon those less so.  She used those gifts for good, finding time to help and support, even when illness clouded her final years and sapped her energy.

If I wish to truly honour her memory, I need to attempt to emulate her.  I'd never fully succeed, but I'd be a far, far better person.

So many will miss her.  Surely, that's a great way to go out, with family and friends sad to see you go, but letting you go, wherever it is we have to go.