The time is soon approaching when we remember our brother’s passing, midsummer on a beautiful day. Our parents’ example of a godly faith despite their sorrow, spoke to me.
We were exposed to life and death all our lives. We were taken to funerals and participated in the celebration of a life well lived. We sat and listened to conversations extolling the strengths and weaknesses of the friend who was gone.
I never looked upon that as morbid. My parents believed that attending funerals was a way to honour the deceased, to demonstrate to the family that they understood the grief and stood by to assist in any way they could.
When I first returned home, while I was still in search of employment, I attended many funerals throughout the county with my parents. There I was at West Zion Church, Bergen and McDougal Flats Missionary churches as well as the Baptist and Nazarene churches in Olds. My parents seemed to know everyone. It was a given that they would attend.
This past winter I happened to scroll the obituaries in the Record Gazette, the newspaper of Peace River, where I had spent 12 years. I was shocked to discover the listing of one of my longtime friends.
Marilyn was expecting her first child when we met; I had just had my second. We became friends; our children grew up together. She was curious, interested in politics, philosophy and religion. Her relaxed approach to life was very different to my upbringing. Her perception stretched mine.
Marilyn’s obituary was written by her daughters, praising what a compassionate mother she had been. She always gave of herself, to teach, encourage their strengths and to listen to their troubles and dreams. She was well known in the area as a gifted artist.
When we moved to Peace River we initially had a stream of visitors, friends from our former lives. Rob’s best friend in school was Willem, whose father had worked for a large oil company. The family had travelled the world. That had made it harder to develop long-lasting friendships but Willem and Rob had a bond.
Willem was a part of our wedding and we enjoyed getting to know Yvonne and their son Lawrence, spending time in their home while we were in Calgary. They were some of our first visitors in Peace River, outside of our families.
Both Marilyn and Yvonne held a spot in my heart, playing a role in my life for a time. With both we could pick up where we left off, like continuing an interrupted conversation. In those years before Facebook, neither was inclined to keep in touch.
I remember reading that some people come into our lives only for a season. Both were such people. I was saddened to read Yvonne’s obituary recently, in a discarded Calgary Herald on the weekend.
Yvonne was honoured as a wife and mother, co-worker and volunteer extraordinaire. She had volunteered at the Calgary Zoo for years and worked tirelessly in her church. Her enduring faith in God kept her through her final years.
After reading the paper I went to my bookshelf and took down my first effort at scrapbooking. There they were, both Marilyn and Yvonne, only pages apart. I had met them within a few years of each other. We were young moms together. Although we went our separate ways, they both touched my life and I hold a portion of them in my hoarded memories.
– Joyce Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist
