Yesterday I attended a funeral for one of my mother's two best friends.
When I called the hospital to check on Mrs. C, I ended up speaking with her daughter instead.
"I am heartbroken that I couldn't attend Mrs. F's funeral," she said.
Although I knew what she meant, I also knew that if Mrs. F were alive, she would agree that Pauline was exactly where she needed to be.
Our mothers came from a generation that knew what Faith, Family and Friendship meant. They had met at a Toronto hospital where two were RNs and the third was an RNA. At 6, I didn't know that I would be 45 before I said goodbye to either of them but that's what happened.
Mrs. F was formidable. A woman who raised her three girls without complaint then went on to contribute to the rearing of her daughter's daughters by providing them with shelter, money, energy and endless support. Although I occasionally remember her wishing that one daughter or another would make a different choice, she was always very much in tune with who they were as people. She didn't hid their faults, she accepted them and looked for ways to lead them down meaningful pathways.
People are not friends anymore they way that they were friends. I haven't met
