My husband opened the paper one morning in late January and by usual habit, turned to the obituaries. He brought the paper and showed me. At first I saw another name beside his thumb as he held the Record pages open for me. He said, “No, this one.”

I recognized the photo immediately as someone I’ve known, worked with, but hadn’t seen in months.

No way, I thought. She’s younger than me. It was a hard moment to take in, until the news went from acknowledging in the mind to recognizing in the heart. And I felt the sadness.

The obituary began like this: “A complex and rare disease has taken my mom/daughter, our sister-in-law/cousin and friend in a devastatingly rapid manner…”

My last contact with Cheryl had been in 2021, I think in the fall, when my friend Judy, who was tutoring, couldn’t take on another student.

“Do you know anyone?” she asked.

Cheryl came to my mind immediately and I promised to get in touch. I knew she’d done a lot of tutoring of various ages. I made the call and Cheryl picked up right away. It was good to hear her voice. I cannot remember that we talked about much else, in the middle of COVID, perhaps after a first inquiry, but I did tell her about a potential tutoring job, if she was interested. And she was. I gave her Judy’s number so that they might connect.

Judy told me she was impressed by Cheryl’s discussion of in-person as opposed to online tutoring. I’d had opportunity to connect Cheryl with my daughter some years earlier when our eldest granddaughter needed assistance with reading. Our youngest daughter, Sarah, was doing child care at the time for her older sister and remembers Evy liking when Cheryl came.

Cheryl had a way with kids. Her caring came through and her dedication to her vocation.

Cheryl and I met at our church. She’d been a member for awhile, I think, and I was quite new. We taught Sunday School together. At one point, she and another teacher founded a preschool and rented space in the church. Later we both volunteered to help with Vacation Bible School.

It was clear that the children felt at ease around her. And we connected too, teacher to teacher, since I had also taught preschoolers.

One day my husband had plans to check out the furnace at church and Ana, our second grandchild, and I went along. We were just going to put in time in the fellowship hall, but Cheryl invited us into her classroom and said Ana could play with the toys. She invited me to sit at the table with her. I think that was the first time I had seen her interact with the children in her classroom.

Later we served on council together through some trying times. We might doubt others around us who let us down, but our faith in God was still keeping us going. During that last year, I didn’t see Cheryl, then our church closed in 2018 and I hadn’t seen her in awhile.

Cheryl was one of those people who could just pick up where we left off. My husband and I had joined another Lutheran church and I’m not sure where Cheryl worshiped after that.

When I saw Cheryl’s obituary, I had to go and pay my respects. That is, after all, part of the grieving, to process memories and thoughts and connections, and to share memories with her family.

I met sisters, brother, sisters-in-law, her son, and her Mother that day at visitation. Since Cheryl’s illness went so fast, I think her son and her family were still processing all that had happened in the previous few weeks. Rather like shock waves that take time to settle in to a new reality—life without Cheryl.

Her family honoured her well in the memorial service. I was grateful to watch it online. And though I didn’t know many of her family, I heard a few stories and thought, That sounds like the Cheryl I knew.

Rest in peace, my friend. You are remembered.

 Cheryl–Photos by permission of family