That’s the conclusion I came to yesterday as I received love from someone who might have seemed more than unlikely.
Love is everywhere.
Not many people are aware of this, but I’ve been in Toronto for just over a month now on an important mission. That of accompanying a great friend in her last moments of human life. Important, difficult, sad, magnificent, privileged. Qualifications that go well with what’s happened.
This friend has been a big part of my life for almost 30 years. First of all, she was my boss when I worked at the Montreal Children’s Hospital Foundation, where I came to know her as a determined, solid, visionary, generous woman, sometimes challenging but always right. A bit of a bulldozer, but above all the kind who SEES the potential in her employees and forces them to excel.
A few months after she left that job, we saw each other again “socially” and over the months became friends. Going from “you” to “you” had been a challenge for me!
From weekends at his house in the country, to summer sojourns in Maine, in what became a veritable haven where we could recharge our batteries after months of grueling work, and where we always arrived exhausted and ready to clear our heads, we have accumulated memories of complicity and smiles.
During the last month I was with her, we reminisced about the little places we explored together, on the lookout for amusing or useful finds. Antique shops where she liked to rummage. Beautiful landscapes… She told me about her travels, the people she met, the challenges she overcame, the hard knocks, the beauty of the world.
I have no other friend who, when I ask her what rose petals do in a small container, says “It’s from a rose on Mother Teresa’s coffin when I went to the funeral with Madame Chrétien and the Canadian delegation” or when I sort through her photos and ask her if that’s her with Queen Elizabeth “I was introduced to her twice” or “This photo was taken with… in a leprosarium in India” or “I bought this in a market near…” naming a remote country where most people will never set foot, where men weave magic carpets and the entire village performs a creative task for its survival.
She left last Thursday. Serene, with a heart full of gratitude, surrounded by love and sunshine. I was with her.
Messages started pouring in from friends around the world. All expressed sadness, but also joy and gratitude for having had her in their lives. A larger-than-life woman. Not perfect – far from it – but a woman who was doing her bit to make the world a fairer and more beautiful place.
She left. And I stayed to complete the beginning of the second part of my mission. A little numb. Deeply moved and honored to have been able to be with her at the end of this life journey.
Yesterday, I had undertaken some administrative tasks. Sorting, filing, tidying to keep my brain busy and try to see things more clearly.
A week ago, I asked for a replacement for my laughter yoga sessions with URGENCE RIRE and Rire en ligne (Corinne’s sessions in France). I didn’t practice my intentional laughter exercises as assiduously as usual. Tears took priority! I stayed strong for months and it was time to let them out. And they did!
So yesterday, I decided to take over my 4 p.m. (Quebec time) slot and propose a 10-minute session of intentional but gentle laughter, so as not to rush myself and to avoid suddenly bursting into tears, as has been happening to me over the past few days. We did 10 minutes together. And it did me a lot of good. I didn’t laugh out loud, but I was laughing and it felt good.
I had one last task to complete before the end of the afternoon: go to the bank to notify them of my friend’s death and initiate the transfer of the account to that of the estate. I had met them several times over the past few weeks, and they were very thoughtful and kind to me. I stood firm while the person in charge explained what was going to happen and how I was going to proceed. It was on the way out that I “lost my temper” and started crying, even though I was on the sidewalk at a time of heavy traffic. I couldn’t move forward. I just stood there crying. And people passed by me indifferent and in a hurry to get home.
Until a man walking towards me, dressed really extravagantly and worthy of a suit assembled from donated clothes, looked at me and said, “What’s wrong honey? Tell me. I am Mother Nature and I can help” The look so full of compassion and love. “What’s wrong honey? Tell me. I am Mother Nature and I can help”.
This banged-up itinerant had stopped to console me… wanted to help me with my grief.
I couldn’t help thinking that, for weeks now, I’ve been seeing homeless people in the neighborhood every day, and that people pass by them without stopping, but also that I’ve never felt reassured by seeing so many of them. A man who screams and gesticulates and seems to be in crisis is not reassuring, I agree. And unfortunately, we come across too many of them these days. Drugs? Mental health? I don’t know, but I walk fast when I go out in this neighborhood.
And this man who’d been talking to himself a few moments earlier had stopped to give me a little love as the other passers-by went by.
I wanted to take him in my arms to thank him and welcome him back.
COVID oblige, I told him, wiping my eyes, that he had just done me a lot of good. “This, my dear, is worth a whole lot of brownie points in heaven. You are a dear dear man”. Vous êtes très très précieux cher homme” And he went on his way, blowing me a kiss with his hand. Without asking.
Love came to me on a street corner in an unlikely and life-saving way. Comfort came from someone who certainly needed it as much as I did. A small moment of profoundly and intensely luminous humanity.
Lessons learned: look with the eyes of the heart. Do not judge. Don’t be afraid. Love is everywhere.
HAHAmaste
Laughter, joy and health
Linda
