Things We Love About Arta #37: A Poem/Letter to Arta from her Dear Friend Ria

April 10, 2021 

Dear Arta 

I think we both know that time has grown shorter for you. I hope and pray and wish I am wrong in this, but I cannot ignore the reality that cancer is so often the victor. I read in your blog, or did you tell me, that some time ago when one of your children was flirting with death (was it Richard?) you realized that you had not said all to him that you wanted to say. You then did so, and also told all your other children all the things that had gone unsaid. So, I am taking a leaf from your book and writing this letter to tell you all the things unsaid, and perhaps even some that have been said before. Take these words and make them a hug to wrap around you, to sustain you, to soothe you, to let you know you are loved and cherished and that you have, for me, made a lasting positive impression. Well more than an impression. A positive influence. You are like a magnet that pulls on the very best in people, pulling it to the surface. 

I am envious of your siblings and your in- laws, and your children. They have had a lifetime of you. They have seen you grow and evolve and like a rough rock, be polished into a brilliant gem by your life. You are in the very fabric of who they are. Your presence in their lives has in so many ways, covert and overt, nudged the atoms of their beings, and placed vibrations and memories in their very cells. Who you are, the very essence of you, will continue to influence generation after generation. Time will surely dull then inevitably erase the memories of you. Yet how you lived your life, how you moved through your days, the example you are will be like an echo in generation after generation. 

I believe that each of the friends I have in my life resonates with a different facet of who I am. We are all like gem stones, some more rough cut, some more polished, some with few facets, some with a multitude of facets. Each friendship is a ying and yang of energies which polishes the facets. I feel blessed and so grateful for our friendship. 

I have no memento, no object given by you to me, to remember you by. The objects that are touch stones to memories. But I don’t need such physical things. There are your words, Arta. The multitude of blogs postings which are, so in so many ways, the view of life through your eyes and your voice. What a gift to return to again and again. Oh, but there is the recipe for the Velvet Torte that you gave me years ago. I remember the night you served it at writers’ group (remember, we called ourselves The Friends of the Egg Lady after the character in Caroline’s story). What I remember is how good it was, and that none of us could remember what we wrote or read or discussed that night as we were all on a chocolate high. That torte needs to come with a caution that it is advisable to only consume small pieces! 

There is so much about you that I admire. Your love and dedication to learning and your curiosity about the world– and not just idle surface curiosity but a deep dive into all sorts of things that are foreign or unfamiliar to you; ideas, music, art, culture, stories, food… the list goes on. You are not a ‘traditional’ academic, yet you are the only person I know of, outside of researchers and professors that has read the entire Report on the Royal Commission on the Status of Women in Canada. You told me that while working at the U of C library you would spend your lunch hours in the stacks reading the report. You also started reading the Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (on Residential Schools) and in one conversation we had you told me you were in the midst of reading the list of all the residential schools. If there was an opera or play you were planning to watch, you would research the story, the background and reviews of the production. You kept pen and paper at hand when reading The New Yorker to note any word you did not know and then you would look up the definition. You have inspired me to delve deeper, to explore wider and to reignite latent curiosities. 

We spent a wonderful week together, just you and I, at the Lake in June two years ago. You gardened, I cooked and we talked and talked. We went on a drive to the Sicamous dump. There is probably no other dump in the world that can boast of such a magnificent view. We went to the second-hand store in Salmon Arm – you said to me “We need to go to Churchs today”. I was puzzled as It was not a Sunday and you knew I am a Buddhist. I was doubly puzzled when you added “I need to get a toaster”. When my confusion was exposed you explained the name and we laughed and laughed. Then we had a fun trip of exploring all the nooks and crannies. I still use the red bag/purse I got there. And you did get a toaster. Late in the week you told me that was the first time you had spent more than a few hours with just a friend. No family members. Just yourself and a friend. I felt so honored and grateful that I was that friend. I hope the experience was as wonderful for you. We had planned to do it again. That will not be, so I cherish the memories of those day even more. 

You have a deep and fierce love for your family. You have raised children who are remarkable adults. Your daughters are strong, fierce, courageous and kind. You told me once you loved babies – how they smelt and how they felt in your arms brought you great joy. Let’s be realistic, you did have a lot of children! So, you must have really, really enjoyed kids. I know you did and do because of the number of blog posts documenting spending time and playing with your grandkids. Do they know that you used to hide ice cream from them so you could have it all? Arta you were the one to introduce me to soup bowl portions of ice cream. “We love ice cream” you told me, “You just can’t do ice cream by half measures.” 

We also laughed about how your children planned behind your back to decide which one of them would ‘take care of you’ – would it be Catherine with a request for help with her family in Montreal, or Rebecca with need for a proof reader in Victoria, or Richard needing help with his brood? You knew they knew you knew -- these behind-the-scenes machinations. 

There are two ways your presence in my life as friend has changed me. 

Two lessons or shifts that I attribute to you. 

One is learning the importance of being calm and serene. That nothing is made better by panic. Even in the most challenging or terrifying times, it is best to be calm. Serenity is, for me, about being in the world and at peace – no great tilting at windmills, no wishing for a different reality, just a basic acceptance. Not resignation but a mindful conscious acceptance of the wonder and the messiness and the beauty and the ugliness of life. I think being the oldest of eight siblings and having a multitude of children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews has been a lifelong opportunity to practice being calm. Yet, I also am convinced that there is something in your nature, your character that is calm and serene. I can still remember you telling the "Friends of the Egg Lady" about you garage burning down, and the loss of so many treasures. There was sadness in your voice, so much was lost, but still there was serenity. 

Arta, the second lesson I can sum up by hearing your voice in my head saying “It was fun”. Doing things, buying things, experiencing moments just because they are fun. You have this energy of joy which surrounds you and trails out from you like a subtle waft of perfume. And you find fun and that joy virtually anywhere – even, as described in a recent blog post, in a trip to the pharmacy to pick up prescriptions. 

In our last phone call, you told me you are at peace – that you have lived a full, interesting and rewarding life. That your regrets are small and few. I know that it has been more than a full and interesting life. You have made a difference. A positive difference in the lives of many people, myself included. If I had written this letter by putting pen to paper you would see the marks of the many tears I have shed as I have written. My sadness and pain are not for you. You have lived an enviable life, though that has never been your intention. My sadness is because I will miss you. I will miss you often and deeply. Such is the price of friendship and love. A price I have been willing and glad to pay and will keep paying to keep you in my life, through so many wonderful memories. 

With love, 

Your friend (and a Friend of the Egg Lady) 

Ria