Sarah was my mother’s step-mother, and so technically my step-grandmother, but to me she was simply “Sarah.” It was sort of emblematic of the way in which I saw her; she was an unapologetically unique woman, determined to be the architect of her own destiny, but she was also strongly compassionate. When I was younger, my mother, sister, and I spent many summer days with Sarah on Galiano Island. To me, Galiano was synonymous with Sarah; I spent so much time exploring the various nooks and crannies of the island with her that the two are inextricably linked in my memory. My earliest memory of her is of sitting together in the woods opposite the house, fashioning little fairy dolls out of construction paper and bits of fabric and string. I still remember the feeling of magic at play. It was a feeling I had often in my time with her. She had a way of weaving a little bit of her magic into even the most mundane moments. Though she is gone, I am certain that a small part of that unbreakable whimsy lives still in each and every person who knew and cherished her. She was, and is, unforgettable.
Leave a Reply