From Rowan Percy, Salt Spring Island.
Why are the incredibly brilliant young taken away from us? My heart strains to encompass Theresa's death and I want to lose myself in memories of her. Theresa was a bright star on earth. Her beauty shimmers in my mind; my eyes well up for the loss of ever seeing her sweet face again. She had the gentleness of a deer, the countenance of an angel barely concealing a mischievous bent, the mind of a lawyer and a mediator, the empathy of an open-hearted child.
Theresa's attention to all that came within her desire to learn was intense. I recall, when she returned from Thailand, the joy I felt when she showed Karen and me her photos from her trip. Her knowledge of the names and details of all the ocean creatures she saw - and instantly loved - was awesome. Her love of adventure, her willingness to face her fears, head right into them and then discover how easily life took care of her was inspiring.
Theresa taught me about writing succinctly. I used to write a column for the Lavender Rhinoceros, known then as the LNews. Tree always put the paper together at the 11th hour. I knew I could find her in the small hours of the morning, peering at her computer in a corner of her bedroom overflowing with clothes, books, papers, hair clips.... When I came to her with my article, exasperated from having read through my draft 15 times, no longer able to see what I could cut out to get down to the 500 words allowed, Theresa's mind like a scythe sliced through my paragraphs and within minutes what was left was the core of my communication. So it was Theresa that was the first to teach me the difficult art of writing with detachment, the willingness to let go of favourite metaphors and images for the sake of brevity and clarity.
That was the same Theresa who asked for advice over things that troubled or challenged her. I felt honoured to help her however I could. Whenever she showed me her vulnerability I felt as if I were tending to a bird with an injured wing, feeling gingerly for the wounded place and knowing I must respect the wild spirit that needed the freedom to fly again.
Theresa was so dear to me. I loved to hear her laughing, to be engrossed in her stories, to watch her play chase with Nipper, to talk ideas with her, to hear her views on any number of matters of importance to our world. I always came away with thoughts to dwell on, my own world broadened and deepened by hers. I respected her great integrity. I mourn and will continue to mourn. I shall honour her by telling her stories and sharing her life with others. I shall keep the memory of her with me always. And that will be easy because Theresa is unforgettable.
Theresa followed her heart. She did what she felt was most important for her to do. I admire her for that. Her death warns me to direct my life from my creative centre, and to worry less whether my material needs will be met in the future. What future? We can never count on that future; only on each moment as it is lived. Theresa cherished the living of all her moments on earth.