Goodbye CC

Home from the cottage - quiet ride, just Ev and Leah. Both listening to their respective iPods. We needed a break from our raucous GLEE singalongs that entertain us on our trips north.

A melancholy trip for me. Halfway home I hear Ev mumble "...do that for your birthday..." I perk up. Until I hear "paintball". "Paintball, Paris - yeah, that's close" I grumble to myself.  Silence. Tears stream down my cheeks. I am making too much of this supposed crossroads of my life. Turn on the radio. Get the kids to sing along to some rock and roll oldies with me. Finally home.

My car is not in the garage, meaning Carson is not home. But she has left us a gift - the main floor is immaculate (a relative word in our house). So nice to come home to. Everything is unpacked, we have a glass of milk then head upstairs to get ready for bed. Leah will sleep with me tonight. We brush our teeth together, wash our faces and duly moisturize. I am still in a funk. Leah snuggles close as I turn on the iPad and check my work emails.

A one word subject line takes my breath away.

Catherine.

She's gone. Passed away this morning. The most maddening friend and colleague I have ever had. One of those intelligent, creative, dramatic, larger-than-life personalities to ever walk the earth. She was diagnosed with cancer in October. There were so many complications and set-backs from day one. We sent food and gifts and corresponded by email. She asked for and was given privacy, but her closest friends kept her in her beloved limelight through a blog ( http://www.ciavarella-update.blogspot.com/ ).

As Leah squeezed my hand, I looked at CC's picture and her year of birth - 1964. Catherine loved celebrating her birthday - we would get 6 month reminders, then her wish list would be posted 3 months before the big day. I used to keep these lists - she was a very funny person and I would enjoy rereading these lists every few months. No more birthdays for Catherine.

Catherine loved parties. She threw one for me the first time I left our branch. A memorable evening at a martini bar, and a comical end as we headed home, wandering down Yonge Street trying to stop Catherine from drinking and dialling all her favourite colleagues. One my favourite pictures is from that evening:

I don't have an eloquent or profound way of tying together Catherine's death at 46 and my imminent, where-do-I-go-from-here 50th (although "Suck it up Buttercup" is ringing in my ears). Catherine lived a very full life, in fact for the past 8 years since I had known her, her downtown condo, trips to Europe, weekends biking and visiting friends was a lifestyle I dreamed would be mine some day.

But I know that Catherine envied my full life, full house and beautiful daughters. There were a few months before she turned 40, when she kept joking "oh my god, I'm going to be 40 and I forgot to have kids!"

As I am writing this, my eldest kid texts me "Love you" in response to my note to her about Catherine. My youngest cries with me as we look at CC's blog.

Goodbye CC. You brought me joy and you caused me pain. You weren't always true to yourself, but you always knew what you wanted. I will never forget you.