Saturday, January 23, 2021
As I grow older, I have come to appreciate the privilege of knowing someone for decades, basically, most of our lives. The memories we have of each other are woven into the fabric of our very being. They become part of us, and we part of them. Months and even years can gap and still when we gather we remember and we go to the root of a bond that isn’t broken, that won’t be broken, perhaps can’t be broken if only by memory loss.
My sister Mary became close friends with your mom in high school, at St. Joe’s. I nosed my way into their activities and was accepted immediately by Pat, who didn’t care that this young kid was hanging around. I have fond memories of riding with Pat – on more than one occasion, skipping school when she was in grade 13 and I in grade 9. She was done school at noon, and I’d leave school, meet her at Nepean, and go to the ranch for the afternoon. I did get caught, eventually, on the same day that I sat in the hayloft window and watched twin foals being born. I don’t even remember the punishment my parents had for me, the day was “worth it”. I went on two double dates with Pat and Bruce… I was the date of Bruce’s friend…poor guy. I was a little young. Years later there were “the Hoots” at John and Miche’s. They had also become close friends with Pat. She made friends easily. When Mary and I sang quietly to her at her bedside at Bruyere, I was imagining the campfire, remembering Gilles and Pat leading the kids in “Singing in the Rain” scouts style. I hope we brought her there.
Your mom was special – feisty and caring – and she loved you and her grandkids very much. May you find peace and comfort in your memories of her.
Pat Moore
