Louisa W.

[kathleen_dailey]

Yesterday afternoon, my call display showed Louisa's name. Because I was expecting to hear from her around that time, I answered with a chirpy "Louisa! Hi, honey!" There was a second of silence, and then a man's voice said, "Kathy? This is Rob [Louisa's son]." I knew immediately what he was going to tell me.

Louisa had been out for a walk with her dog Freddy, and had just gotten back to her apartment when she collapsed and died. Evidently she was found hours later when her dog-walker (who always did the evening walks) came in to pick up the pup.

I met Louisa more than twenty years ago. She was one of the first people I made friends with when we moved from our house in the Beaches to a downtown condo. I was entering the building one evening at the same time that she was, and we elevator-chatted about her dog (Freddy's predecessor, Mitchell), who was with her. Louisa was so friendly and outgoing, so genuinely nice, that I said to myself, I must get to know this person. And so I did.

Louisa was at the centre of a social scene in the condo that put the lie to the notion that city apartment dwellers are isolated and unfriendly. Once or twice a week she would host a wine-and-cheese night. While a core group was almost always in attendance, she made friends so easily that on any given night two or three new people would be welcomed into the circle. Those people in turn became friends and then began hosting social events (for the ever-growing group), and so on and so on and so on. But Louisa was always the heart of every gathering.

When Louisa moved to an apartment and I moved a couple of blocks east of her, we still saw each other almost as frequently as we did when we lived only a few floors apart. As she'd done in the condo, she made new friends instantaneously. It seemed that almost everyone in the building knew Louisa--and Freddy, who was the most gregarious dog on the planet. Even as she aged and began to face health and mobility issues, we continued to enjoy many wine tastings and social evenings together.

Over the last couple of years, though, it became clear that time was finally catching up with her. Her memory was growing less sharp, and she was physically frail. She was adamant that she was going to remain independent for as long as she could--she didn't want to move in with Rob and his spouse (because that would have meant moving to the far suburbs and giving up the centre-city bustle), and she most definitely didn't want to move to a retirement home. To that extent, her wish was granted: she was happy in her apartment right up to the end, and it's my sincere hope that her death was quick and free of fear and pain.

I can see Louisa's apartment building from my window, and it's going to take me quite a while to realize that I'll no longer be going over there on a regular basis for coffee, wine, conversation, and friendship. I'm going to miss her like crazy.

Comments

[kitarella_imagines]

I'm so sorry you lost your friend 🌺

[kathleen_dailey]

Thank you. She really was a force of nature, in the very best sense.

[kitarella_imagines]

💖