Hi Everyone,
My friend, Renee, died yesterday. The picture above is what her daughter posted on her blog to let us know that it had finally happened.
I have written several times about Renee. I met her through the OWOH giveaway last year when she entered my covered tin contest. While she didn't win the contest, I did make her a Bottle of Hope since she had inflammatory breast cancer. A few weeks later business happened to take me to Winnipeg and I was privileged to meet this amazing woman. I knew upon meeting her that I had met someone special. I also knew that our time together would be limited. We have corresponded via e-mails, blogs, and snail mail and her presence in my life has made me smile for hours on end. She has touched so very many people (it's not unusual for her blog entries to have over 200 comments) and I'm honoured to have been one of them.
Renee was one of my moments of brightness that I wrote about here. My favourite Bottle of Hope ever was made for her nephew, Sheldon. When I make Bottles of Hope I listen to the Sarah McLaughlin CD that Renee sent me. Her spirit is infused in so many things and people.
My heart goes out to Renee's family as they deal with yet another loss. In 2008 it was Renee's father, in 2009 it was young Sheldon, Renee's nephew, in 2010 so far it has been Renee's mother and Renee and Renee's sister is not much longer.
I'm very much feeling the urge to make some Bottles of Hope tonight. These will be on behalf of Renee.
Farewell, Renee. I miss you and will continue to miss you.
I close with one of my favourite blog entries from Renee.
The following was written by A. Powell Davies:
When sorrow comes, let us accept it simply, as a part of life.
Let the heart be open to pain; let it be stretched by it.
All the evidence we have says that this is the better way.
An open heart never grows bitter.
Or if it does, it cannot remain so.
In the desolate hour, there is an outcry; a clenching of the hands upon emptiness; a burning pain of bereavement; a weary ache of loss.
But anguish, like ecstasy, is not forever.
There comes a gentleness, a returning quietness, a restoring stillness.
This, too, is a door to life.
Here, also, is a deepening of meaning – and it can lead to dedication; a going forward to the triumph of the soul, the conquering of the wilderness. And in the process will come a deepening inward knowledge that in the final reckoning, all is well.
When sorrow comes, let us accept it simply, as a part of life.
Let the heart be open to pain; let it be stretched by it.
All the evidence we have says that this is the better way.
An open heart never grows bitter.
Or if it does, it cannot remain so.
In the desolate hour, there is an outcry; a clenching of the hands upon emptiness; a burning pain of bereavement; a weary ache of loss.
But anguish, like ecstasy, is not forever.
There comes a gentleness, a returning quietness, a restoring stillness.
This, too, is a door to life.
Here, also, is a deepening of meaning – and it can lead to dedication; a going forward to the triumph of the soul, the conquering of the wilderness. And in the process will come a deepening inward knowledge that in the final reckoning, all is well.
1 comment:
Sorry hear this news Sandy but Renee is now in a better place and free of pain. I too read her blog and followed your friendship with her via your blog. Hugs to you and to Renee's family. May she rest in peace.
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