Last night I found out that one of the most important people in my life died.
It was her time to die. She had enough of her life and illness.
I will always miss her. Today is terrible. Too much loss in a difficult time.
She was an amazing artist and creative being.
I met her when I was eleven years old.
She mentored and nurtured me at a time in my youth where I was sad and not nurtured.
She knew what was happening for me in my home and intervened.
She allowed me to move into her home and helped make sure I was launched. Made
sure I was fed. Sometimes awful things like Tiger's Milk.
Made sure I felt respected and cared for.
Taught me so many things. Like doing a cartwheel. Laughter at stuff that was awful and painful.
We sang naughty songs, talked politics, drew pictures and drank wine.
Some of us are lucky enough to have more than one mother. She was mine.
I adored her sophisticated, elegant artistic being. Her ability to create music and art.
The first time I met her she was in a black turtle neck and tight black pants. She had a long cigarette holder and perched on the arms of chairs. Men were devastated by her.
She read me poetry and bits of stories and introduced me to Canadian authors and artists.
She would grill me on current events and have lively discussions despite my ignorance and innocence.
She put up with me when I was intolerable.
When my beloved grandfather died. She found me by driving street by street. She told me of his death and made sure I had the support to get through the loss of my most important loved one. She helped me organize his funeral. My own mother could barely move. She found a minister to do his life ceremony. He was a communist, godless and extremely poor.
Her daughter remains my closest friend to this day.
I am so glad she was happy at the end of her life. That her friend's cared for her. That she saw the ocean and beauty and held true to herself. She was a Mom to me. And I can no longer thank her.