sometimes words aren’t enough

I had planned to get down some thoughts here today about my trip to Los Angeles last week, and how Alice’s 4th birthday party went.  But something else has come up that leaves me bereft of fluffy words. A good friend of ours – A – recently lost her mother.  She died last week and we found out this morning through a heartbroken message on our machine.  To hear your friend’s voice break like that, as it goes to a dark place, is so hard. 

Matt grew up with A, and they were good friends through the tumultuous teen-aged and early 20s years.  I met A when Matt and I first got together, 10 years ago now.  When we first met, I was the new girl on the scene, taking precious time with Matt away from his good circle of friends.  She was the best girl friend he had, and was appropriately wary of my presence when we started dated.  We did a weird dance around each other for a few months, where I was defensive and she was aloof.  But when Matt and I moved in together, she came to our housewarming party.  We spent the night bonding over a bottle of wine out on my balcony and that was it – we were in each other’s pockets.  Our giggles and drunken guffaws made their way down Ossington where our apartment was, and became a part of our shared history.  Throughout the years, we have moved in and out of each other’s lives, and seen each other through some wickedly good and terrible times.  A is a scrapper through and through.   She grew up in the depths of Scarborough, fighting her way through her teenaged years with two older brothers. She has taken care of those brothers and younger sister and parents for years now, and is definitely the hub of her family.  She’s the first one at the party to have your back if trouble starts, and the last one to make you feel lonely or without a shoulder to cry on.  She’s funny and kind and a great pal and a loving Aunty and I wish so very much that I could give her something more than just this post right now.   But yet this is all I have to give, and I hope at least that when she reads this she will feel the love coming at her.

 A, if you are reading this:  I will always have your back, baby.



  1. landismom said

    I’m sorry to hear about your friend’s mom. That is a tough situation–it’s a good thing she has friends like you to support her.

  2. Jen said

    So sorry to read about this. You are a very supportive friend.

  3. crazymumma said

    That is sad. I would think that she would be very honoured by your eulogy of sympathy.

  4. A said

    I love you Kate…….Thank you.


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