Noella and I met at Westmount Hospital. I orientated her and she was my first friend that wore a black leather jacket (that I loved). We were instant friends. I loved her French accent.
Well, when your dad went away I spent the night at the apartment. The apartment was OLD & the pipes LOUD. We always slept in for work. One day as we arrived in a taxi, our boss met us at the door with the words, “This is too much, you are late too often and if it happens one more time it's going on your record and following you EVERYWHERE.” Well I'll tell you I was mortified. Your mom grabbed my arm and had this look on her face like, “So what?”, then mumbled something in French and we started our shift. Your mom wasn't intimidated, she had courage and she gave me some. (We weren't late again.)
I was honored to be a bridesmaid for your mom and nervous because I knew she was from a French family and I knew 0 French. I was introduced as her best friend and never for a minute felt I needed to know French, I was so welcomed by all.
Over the years that followed we often had long periods we didn't see or communicate but with some friends time has little meaning because when you do communicate it's like the gap didn't exist.
It was my honour to be your mother's friend and I grew from it. I'll never forget the times I called and asked, “How are you doing?” and got the answer, “I'm GREAT.” I hear her say that so often in my mind and often when my arthritis is flared and someone says, “How are you?” I'll say, “I'm great” and smile and think of my friend.
Love,
Cathy
Cathy
Thanks, Cathy, for sharing some great memories and starting us off with this story. We welcome comments below.
-Mike
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