Love for Linda

This week, as I am coming to the realization that my little book about Bermuda is finally "at press," I have had the urge to call Linda and tell her.

The last time we spoke on the phone, we had a wonderful, lengthy conversation. It felt as though we were in the same room- the warmth transcended the miles between coastal Canada and coastal New York.  

As I thought about Linda intently this past week (perhaps an intuitive sign),   I adhered to my decision to wait, and surprise her with the book, when it popped up on Amazon. 

I envisioned Linda reading it on her I-pad (in her home of Prince Edward Island) with a cup of tea, the Autumn leaves falling outside. She would undoubtedly reminisce about her countless memories of Bermuda, including those we shared together- through my words and photography. 

Over the years, it was clear that she spent some of the best days of her life in Bermuda with family and friends. When we spoke last, she told me she just "wished that she could get back."

This past week, I prayed that Linda was holding her own, knowing the seriousness of her health condition- but latching on to the joyful sound of her voice the last time that we spoke.

I think that my soul was telling me something, this past week. With Linda on my mind- over and over again.

This morning, it seemed like just another day- at first. I woke up, poured a hot cup of coffee, and settled into my corner of the couch to catch the morning news. As I do everyday, I picked up my phone, to wish Bermuda "Good Morning!"

When I glanced down at my phone, the first post that I saw on social media was a small montage of images of Linda in Bermuda... and of her lovely lakeside cottage- her pride and joy. As I began to read the words, my heart sank.  

This was a post of remembrance for Linda. 

Linda passed away on September 5th- just a couple of days ago. I had not yet been notified in a private way. This, I completely understand. I have experienced a great deal of loss in my life. The days that follow are a blur, unquestionably. And the task of notifying others is so difficult to bear. I can recall not wishing this task on anyone, when I lost my mother.

However, I was stunned. If any of you have learned of someone's death over social media, you can probably identify with how shocking it is. Even when you know a loved one has been ill for an extended time.

Sadly, this is a sign of our times. The very thing that keeps us together from afar- technology- can also do a number on our hearts. It is the way that news is shared- both good and bad. It's also a mode of expression for our love and grief. 

Chances are, I may be conveying the news of Linda's passing to some folks who also met her at Salt Kettle. There is no easy way to say or hear things like this. I am sorry if I am the bearer of this news.

In this day and age, we don't use the phone (in the old school way) anymore. Perhaps this is why Linda and I had so many giggles when we last spoke- despite the fact that she was coping with cancer and I was battling Long Covid. We had things in common, and made fun of our healthcare experiences. 

Over the phone, we compared notes on hospital stays and which activities made each of us short of breath, but laughed about it, nonetheless. We had an honest conversation that brought us close together. Who would have ever imagined that talk, when we met at Salt Kettle House back in 2018? 

I recall how reliable Linda's phone calls were to John Lowe at Salt Kettle (and vice versa), regardless of the time of year. I admired that so- on both of their parts. Linda appreciated real conversation and made an effort to keep in touch. This is one of the things that I will treasure most about her. 

This morning, I am teary-eyed and feeling very quiet. I am contemplating a gentle day of remembrance for Linda. 

Perhaps I will go to Home Goods and find a frame for a Carole Holding print that I have on my desk. It is a moongate image that a friend gifted me from a random antique shop in Massachusetts.

For some reason, I feel as though I should also go somewhere where fish and chips are served, as a nod to Prince Edward Island. Or at least go to smell the fish cooking at our local Dock House in Sag Harbor.

I will most certainly re-post my Mother's Day blog with a nod to the "Salt Kettle Ladies." I will comb thru my images of Linda with love, and say a prayer for her at my local beach. I will promise myself to see Prince Edward Island, as soon as I can- no more excuses. And, I will call a friend for a heartfelt conversation.

Recently, I celebrated five years of writing Smitten with Bermuda. Linda was there for it all. She extended her maternal wings to me during my acute stage of grief, and celebrated my first birthday with me, after losing my mother. She encouraged my creativity- and inspired me to not give up. She was an adoring force that came into my life at just the right time. She had the outlook that I needed, and she shared it.

May you rest in eternal peace, my dear friend. 

Fly high, like a Longtail.

Thank goodness Salt Kettle brought you into my life. 

There will never be another trip to Bermuda without you in my mind. 

I will see you in each pink cloud.

Thank you, Linda.

XOXO

Daisy

I send my heartfelt condolences to Linda's beloved family, her treasured friends,

and to everyone who was blessed to know Linda.

xoxo