Love-abled

Today I remember my friend Sheila. She passed away one year ago, on March 20, 2009, but the love she had and shared remains fresh and comforting.

She was a professional woman who had battled many problems in her life: quadraplegia, which barely slowed her down, double above-the knee leg amputations (which, I understand, occurred in stages), the loss of her hearing due to the administration of a drug to save her life; and much internal damage which resulted in her having to have special equipment in order to perform functions we all take for granted.

Sheila was an only child. A brother had died shortly after birth, and so she never knew him.

Raised by intelligent, doting parents who encouraged her, she had become a paediatric physiotherapist, studying in both England and Canada, before being confined to a wheelchair in her forties.

It was only after the devastating accident which resulted in the rearrangement of her insides that she gave up her beloved profession. She had to fight for the disability pension which she deserved, and she was a very good steward of her money, spending frugally.

Twice divorced, she also lost a child, her only pregnancy.

Despite all of the tragedy and the fight for survival, Sheila was the most loving person I have ever encountered. She didn't trust easily, but once she gave you her trust, you knew it was the most precious gift she had.

Sheila's secret for her great love and her acceptance of all that had happened to her was her love of God. Her Christian faith was the most sincere, powerful and sustaining thing in her life, and the thing that helped her to remark to me, a few months before she died, that she considered herself lucky. Her brother had died, but "I lived. And I've had a wonderful life!".

A wonderful life despite pain, disability and loss of which many of us can't even imagine! That is some faith - and I often feel ashamed of myself when I feel like complaining. I don't think I ever heard her complain, and I only saw her cry once, after a particularly painful medical procedure.

My involvement with Sheila came late in her life, although neither of us knew it as yet, when I helped her establish a new home after the demise of her second marriage. She lived alone with her good dog, Mentor, who now lives with me and in many ways reminds me of Sheila.

Sheila died in hospital on March 20, 2009, after an infection raged through her body. We prayed for the best, but there was too much damage, and too little to look forward to. Sheila chose death with dignity over life with unrelenting medical intervention.

At her funeral, the minister gave us a new meaning of the words "Love-able". Sheila was physically disabled, but as a person, she was love-able, and she used this gift for the good of us all.

She left me a great deal - her dog, some of her assets, a few pieces of furniture, but mostly she left me with her love. It remains and emanates from her dog, who is a daily reminder of this amazing woman. It surrounds me when I need it, reminding me to pray, reminding me that things are never unbearable. It reminds me of how blessed I am to have had her in my life, and how I have no right to complain, because she never did. She only praised.

Rest in peace, my sweet friend. Your disability has ended, but your love-ability remains with us, and you will never be forgotten by your friends.