A beautiful farewell letter

Dear Helen, As I write a farewell letter to you, I am re-visiting my memories of over fifty years ago, starting our University journey together in Melbourne, when we were students at University Women’s College. You were my first adult woman friend, and for a few years you were a powerful and positive influence in so many ways. We are both now over seventy, but some of those influences are alive and well today, even though I have not seen you for twenty years, and before that a gap of another twenty or so. My memory is getting patchy these days, and only reflects my truth- I think I have long given up on absolute truth. Here are some of the fragments which are still precious to me: · introducing me to Rilke’s poetry, and later your own · sharing flowers from Mooroolbark · long evening discussions about all those big life questions- challenging stereotypes and racism, exploring politics and spirituality, ever-widening my horizons · giving me a sense of non-judgemental acceptance and affection. even though we critiqued everything, including our own selves. At Melbourne University we joined marches against White Australia Policies, developed friendships, and sometimes deeper relationships, with young men from Malaysia, Indonesia, India and Fiji. Perhaps it is no surprise that we both kept a passionate interest in refugees and immigrants- both the strengths they brought to their new country and the issues they faced. Years later, we reconnected briefly as I started a Masters’ on groupwork with refugee women and I learned of your work at the Brisbane refugee centre and your own poetry. Then one day you arrived in Auckland, just as I was moving to work in Perth for a year. We had a few hours for catching up, and you bought a metal candlestick that one of my sons ( Matthew) had made. Such a tangible thing, and maybe now it can hold a candle for the rich memories I have of you. I have been very moved by Natasha’s blog since you became unwell, and although I have never met Natasha and Louis, I hope I will someday, and that our growing tribe ( here and in Australia) can meet them too. So many of your qualities are being reflected as they care for you so tenderly in this final phase of your life. Michael Leunig has touched me with his quirky wise humour, and somehow I think you would like him too. Amongst his list of things that are good for the soul is “a quiet stroll around the mental block.” That’s what it has felt like as I say goodbye to my first best woman friend. Thank you, love from E