Toronto

Tonight we gathered to remember and celebrate the life of Cathleen — a woman who dedicated her life to making the world a better place — in the women’s movement,  in faith community, in the peace movement and most significantly in the movement for peoples to secure a safe and sustainable source of food.  People came together from churches, from community organizations — activists, organizers, Raging Grannies — to express gratitude and to tell stories of this woman whose life had touched so many.

The evening began with hospitality — food provided and food shared – a plentiful table and as we ate people shared connections.  As we listened to the speakers who had been invited to share, there were many similar stories.  Many people spoke of her enduring imprint as a mentor, especially to young woman.  People remembered her courage to speak out against injustice, her political savvy, her capacity to grow not only food but whole movements for change.  She was a leader, an organizer, a mentor, a “shit disturber”, a feminist, an activist.

I reflected upon the difference that she made for me as a young feminist in the church, creating room where there had been none.  Another woman, a staff person in the food movement, described herself as a tree planted by Cathleen.  Someone else paid tribute to her strong spirit and political foresight — someone who builds for the future.

Her family who was present were strengthened by the many examples of her legacy that would live on.  The stories that they heard offered them some language in their loss about the meaning of her life.  I believe that each person was able to take away something from the evening.  By exchanging stories of Cathleen’s legacy and giving voice to the commitment to continue to carry the concerns that she was so passionate about, the gathering generated hope for the future. In connecting people from various movement, new possibilities may emerge.

I learned more about the local food movement and who is working in my own neighborhood. I felt a renewed sense of gratitude for my own faith community and our connection to these bigger movements for justice.  I feel compelled to live up to Cathleen’s example and make the world a better place for the next generation of young women who will come after me.

I was honored to contribute a reflection from my church community about remembering Cathleen. I chose to bring rose petals as symbols of beauty on International Women’s Day, as symbols of justice given that they were fairly traded flowers, and as tactile signs of impermanence.  The extravagance of the rose invites us to indulge in the moment, to touch the  beauty of creation and their fragility speaks to the significance of making the most of the time we have together.   Some people took a few petals with them to carry into the week.  I collected the rest to return them to the earth and complete the turning of the wheel, returning blessing for the life of Cathleen that touched so many live and planted so many seeds.

Holy Trinity, Toronto

Today I attended a ceremony for a young woman who died in a homeless shelter. Her name was Bev. Her life was hard and full of struggle.  And there was a sweetness in her that was precious.  Everyone who spoke about her today spoke of her goodness.  One fellow described her as ‘the best person he had ever known’.   There were examples of her poems and her paintings.  Creativity was her release. I also remember hearing her anger at times for the injustices that have happened to Indigenous peoples, homeless people and women.

Her death was nearly a month ago and her community is raw with grief. She was home base for many people who live everyday  in precarious situations and the pain of her loss was pulsing today.  The church was filled with people who don’t usually come to sit in the pews, but instead they often make their way to the edges of the room.  But today the room was theirs. At first it felt a bit chaotic  but the power of the opening ceremony, first a smudge and then the drum, created a strong center in the gathering that provided an anchor.

The ceremony and the leadership of Indigenous women created a container that held people, even for a short time, who were flying apart with grief.  There was time to sing, and to talk.  There was a beautiful offering of art and some elements that created a respectful place to name this friend.  There was a rightness about a community coming to together to mark their own loss.

I hope that these elements — a time to be together, a collective expression of grief, a time to feel respected and to comfort each other, were a even a small salve, a brief respite from the despair.  At one point, when the ceremony was named as a celebration of a life, one woman called out, “yes, a celebration”. You could hear the conviction in her voice.  For me this moment felt like grace, when through the fog of loss, there was a clear light that shone to say celebrate this life. It doesn’t replace the pain that is real in the community, but it adds another track to the song.