The Late

"Tackaberry" is a rather unusual name, so when I saw the obituary, I opened it.  Having lived in Ottawa forever, I continue to scan the obits.  And there it was.  "Mother of......and the late Anthea..." 

Whoa!  I went to Lisgar Collegiate with Anthea Tackaberry and knew her well.  And she's dead?  It just floors me when someone of my age-and-stage dies.  The fascinating thing about Anthea was that her family were Christian Scientists -- a sect of which I still have no clue, but which continues to be mysterious and secretive.  At the time, it almost seemed heretical.  (Remind me to google it.) 

Christmas is a time when we remember loved ones who have died.  Reading the obits these days I see that people have "passed on", or "departed", or are "in the arms of The Lord".  Seems no one actually "dies".  I am eternally grateful to my dead mother, who started taking me to Hulse and Playfair when I was about five so I could stare into the coffins of the dead and understand that..."death is a part of life, dear"....as she put it.

This year, we have received significantly fewer Christmas cards, which is sad.  I love sitting down and writing them, with Christmas music playing in the background.  And just a note to those who send tacky internet ones:  Take me off your lists.  I find it quite insulting that people who claim to be friends send a mass mailing.  Please.   

A very dear friend of many years is now in palliative care and it pains me to contemplate his passing.