August 19, 2014
August 19, 2014
It has taken me a long time to be able to write this; too hard to confront the reality that our dear Susan is gone. Even now I must pause to absorb the reality that she is no longer with us. It is as if any day I will get a call from her saying “I’m feeling better this week, let’s get together.”
Susan was extraordinary, complex and multifaceted: a rare gem. She was a combination of many talents, interests and moods and was always a surprise to be around. I was never bored when I was with Susan. Much of the time we spent together was in our beloved writing circle or in conversation either on her deck or by the fire. It was during these weekly gatherings to write or the intimate conversations at her home that I grew to love and respect her as a woman of strength, resilience, and optimistic determination. Susan had a gift for making others feel appreciated, loved and supported. Any discussions of hopes, dreams or ideas were met with “of course you can.” And conversations of life struggles, or disappointments were met with “this circumstance does not define you” and “you always have choice”. She was wise and determined in a gentle stubborn way that was never pushy but matter of fact and honest. Susan was kind, generous and hopeful. She didn’t take her friendships, family or health for granted. They were all special gifts that she cherished. She was always making special treats and coming up with ways to convey her love for others whether it was making lemon bars or soup for the group or erecting a magical tent in her back yard for a family Christmas dinner. Susan above all was a devoted mother and grandmother. She loved and her girls with tenderness and care. She worried and fussed like most mothers but she was extraordinary in her willingness to consider their points of view and support their hopes for their futures. The grandchildren were her most cherished possessions. She could spend hours talking about all the funny little things they were doing and she had a way of describing their antics in ways that made you love them too. Susan was a reluctant mentor. She didn’t see herself as a hero but rather just a woman who wanted to extract the most and best out of her precious life. Although there were times of frustration, depression and disappointment during the course of her illness she always, always, always focused on the positive and possible. Susan had a knack for bringing cheer and laughter. Her countenance radiated light and joy and she rarely took anything for granted. She was an example for all of us to live in the present tense, to be grateful and joyful and to share from your heart. She is one of the bravest and most kind of all the people I have met and her physical presence will be deeply missed and so as her favorite poem states “I will carry her in my heart always.”
Susan was extraordinary, complex and multifaceted: a rare gem. She was a combination of many talents, interests and moods and was always a surprise to be around. I was never bored when I was with Susan. Much of the time we spent together was in our beloved writing circle or in conversation either on her deck or by the fire. It was during these weekly gatherings to write or the intimate conversations at her home that I grew to love and respect her as a woman of strength, resilience, and optimistic determination. Susan had a gift for making others feel appreciated, loved and supported. Any discussions of hopes, dreams or ideas were met with “of course you can.” And conversations of life struggles, or disappointments were met with “this circumstance does not define you” and “you always have choice”. She was wise and determined in a gentle stubborn way that was never pushy but matter of fact and honest. Susan was kind, generous and hopeful. She didn’t take her friendships, family or health for granted. They were all special gifts that she cherished. She was always making special treats and coming up with ways to convey her love for others whether it was making lemon bars or soup for the group or erecting a magical tent in her back yard for a family Christmas dinner. Susan above all was a devoted mother and grandmother. She loved and her girls with tenderness and care. She worried and fussed like most mothers but she was extraordinary in her willingness to consider their points of view and support their hopes for their futures. The grandchildren were her most cherished possessions. She could spend hours talking about all the funny little things they were doing and she had a way of describing their antics in ways that made you love them too. Susan was a reluctant mentor. She didn’t see herself as a hero but rather just a woman who wanted to extract the most and best out of her precious life. Although there were times of frustration, depression and disappointment during the course of her illness she always, always, always focused on the positive and possible. Susan had a knack for bringing cheer and laughter. Her countenance radiated light and joy and she rarely took anything for granted. She was an example for all of us to live in the present tense, to be grateful and joyful and to share from your heart. She is one of the bravest and most kind of all the people I have met and her physical presence will be deeply missed and so as her favorite poem states “I will carry her in my heart always.”
