"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.
Sunday, December 21, 2014
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By the way, the palliative friend? Sent us a beautiful card.
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