Rescat in Pace, Juliette
Hardly to be believed. I'd lost touch with her. Shouldn't have, but did. I should have made an effort over the years to get in touch. On the other hand, I knew how busy and involved she was, and I was only a little chapter in her life. She had five children, her first grandchild, a close and extended family, many friends. Our friendship was that of working colleagues. And I had been out of the country for half a decade and more. That was that.
I did think of her from time to time. But one tends, sometimes to do just that, and then nothing more. I've been busy too, with my own life. Still, I feel quite badly about not having at least made an initial effort to get in touch. And then, only a few days ago, in the week-end newspaper my husband saw the lovely public notice. Juliette Chatterjee and her husband Kam celebrating 50 years of marriage.
Quite the milestone that; fifty years of marriage. I can remember, years ago, when Juliette was facing the prospect of her fiftieth birthday with some trepidation, that I gave her a birthday card emphasizing the half-century of her life and inside it had tucked a photocopied $50-bill, with the invitation to go out and spend it recklessly. That was 22 years ago. Two years later I celebrated that same birth milestone myself, in a foreign country.
Juliette had become my second-in-command at the office we operated in assistance of people living with diabetes. We maintained a growing membership, we operated a "store" where we sold supplies for the maintenance and control of diabetes. We held regular meetings both for members and for the executive committee of the group, inviting guest speakers to hold forth on new promises in medical advances.
We busied ourselves with fund-raising initiatives. We taught newly-diagnosed and also long-term diabetics how to look after themselves, to regain perspective, to once again embark on their lives, controlling the symptoms of diabetes, and maintaining their health overall with the aid of medical testing devices. We were busy and more than a little engaged in the work we shared.
Juliette was a wonderful person to work beside, to spend time with, to converse with, to plan with. She was good natured, big hearted, practical. She loved a good joke, and could take one that poked fun at her own condition. There was never a mean bone in her body. She was spirited, happy and a doting, loving mother of five children; completely bonded to her husband.
She told me she never had any doubts when she first met him, that this was the man she would marry. Raised a Catholic in a close community of French-Canadians she had the courage of her need in defying public opinion a half-century ago when she determined that this beautiful, intelligent dark-skinned man would share her life. She never looked back, had never any reason to regret her decision.
I saw her confidence shaken only once, when the first of her daughters to marry gave birth to her first grandchild. It was a little girl. Juliette's daughter was a beautiful young woman, possessing the grace and beauty so commonly seen in women whose genetic diversity combined East and West. Only in her mid 20s, she gave birth to a child with Down Syndrome. To say that this was a blow to the entire family's equilibrium would be putting it mildly.
But soon Juliette recaptured her exuberant view of life and realized that her grandchild was there to be raised and loved and cossetted just like any other child. She told innumerable stories about all of her children, taking immense pleasure in their life skills and accomplishments. Tales of her grandchild's growing awareness of the world around her abounded.
On those few occasions when my husband and I met socially with Juliette and her husband we were impressed with his calm and generous demeanor, his obvious pride in his wife. Fifty years together resulting in much love and emotional support, and five children. Bringing matters more up to date, they have between them produced, through their five offspring, ten grandchildren.
Two days after we saw the happy notice in the paper celebrating fifty years of marriage between Juliette and her Kam, there was another notice. An obituary. Juliette had been stricken with brain cancer. It seems she fought a long and hard battle. Expert medical advice and various options must always have been available, since both her husband and several of her children were respected members of the medical community.
The obituary ends with a little notation from her children: "Au-revoir, maman"
I did think of her from time to time. But one tends, sometimes to do just that, and then nothing more. I've been busy too, with my own life. Still, I feel quite badly about not having at least made an initial effort to get in touch. And then, only a few days ago, in the week-end newspaper my husband saw the lovely public notice. Juliette Chatterjee and her husband Kam celebrating 50 years of marriage.
Quite the milestone that; fifty years of marriage. I can remember, years ago, when Juliette was facing the prospect of her fiftieth birthday with some trepidation, that I gave her a birthday card emphasizing the half-century of her life and inside it had tucked a photocopied $50-bill, with the invitation to go out and spend it recklessly. That was 22 years ago. Two years later I celebrated that same birth milestone myself, in a foreign country.
Juliette had become my second-in-command at the office we operated in assistance of people living with diabetes. We maintained a growing membership, we operated a "store" where we sold supplies for the maintenance and control of diabetes. We held regular meetings both for members and for the executive committee of the group, inviting guest speakers to hold forth on new promises in medical advances.
We busied ourselves with fund-raising initiatives. We taught newly-diagnosed and also long-term diabetics how to look after themselves, to regain perspective, to once again embark on their lives, controlling the symptoms of diabetes, and maintaining their health overall with the aid of medical testing devices. We were busy and more than a little engaged in the work we shared.
Juliette was a wonderful person to work beside, to spend time with, to converse with, to plan with. She was good natured, big hearted, practical. She loved a good joke, and could take one that poked fun at her own condition. There was never a mean bone in her body. She was spirited, happy and a doting, loving mother of five children; completely bonded to her husband.
She told me she never had any doubts when she first met him, that this was the man she would marry. Raised a Catholic in a close community of French-Canadians she had the courage of her need in defying public opinion a half-century ago when she determined that this beautiful, intelligent dark-skinned man would share her life. She never looked back, had never any reason to regret her decision.
I saw her confidence shaken only once, when the first of her daughters to marry gave birth to her first grandchild. It was a little girl. Juliette's daughter was a beautiful young woman, possessing the grace and beauty so commonly seen in women whose genetic diversity combined East and West. Only in her mid 20s, she gave birth to a child with Down Syndrome. To say that this was a blow to the entire family's equilibrium would be putting it mildly.
But soon Juliette recaptured her exuberant view of life and realized that her grandchild was there to be raised and loved and cossetted just like any other child. She told innumerable stories about all of her children, taking immense pleasure in their life skills and accomplishments. Tales of her grandchild's growing awareness of the world around her abounded.
On those few occasions when my husband and I met socially with Juliette and her husband we were impressed with his calm and generous demeanor, his obvious pride in his wife. Fifty years together resulting in much love and emotional support, and five children. Bringing matters more up to date, they have between them produced, through their five offspring, ten grandchildren.
Two days after we saw the happy notice in the paper celebrating fifty years of marriage between Juliette and her Kam, there was another notice. An obituary. Juliette had been stricken with brain cancer. It seems she fought a long and hard battle. Expert medical advice and various options must always have been available, since both her husband and several of her children were respected members of the medical community.
The obituary ends with a little notation from her children: "Au-revoir, maman"
Labels: Memories
posted by Pieface @ 1:14 PM
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