N and I


Sometimes people drift into our lives in the most random ways.  The really special ones stay, travelling with us through life’s unpredictable journey.

N and I met on our first day of junior high because we both had surnames beginning with S.  In a homeroom filled with Smiths, Silvertons and Sylkas, we were drawn together–two kids who were completely different, yet strikingly similar.

Fiercely intelligent and loyal, N was a bit of a rebel without a cause back then.  Athletic, competent and confident, where I was timid, clumsy and quiet, we might never have connected were it not for the wonder of alphabetization.

Although our lives took different paths after high school, we maintained a close friendship.  Our communication evolved from long handwritten letters in the 80’s to emails and Skype.  Once my parents passed, N became the main reason I continued to visit Powell River regularly.

N’s been a steady support through everything life has thrown at me over the decades–the deaths of my parents, my divorce, numerous moves…  She has talked me through the depths of my anxiety more times than I remember.

She helped me buy my first house as a single girl, reminisced about my mom with me and even vacated her cottage to give my Sailor and me some alone time when we were visiting Powell River and staying with our respective parents.  (She hung a huge a crucifix above the bed just before we arrived–an indication of her wicked sense of humor.)

Our forty year friendship ended abruptly on Saturday.

N died suddenly.

Rest easy, Norma.