This is no eulogy

In various ‘long’ shots of my workroom over the years, you may have noticed that the walls are well decorated with crafted pieces…pictures, texts, canvases. All sorts. Most of them were gifts and each of them is special in some way. This week, since we learned about the untimely death of our friend Debbie Rock, I am grateful for two or three things that she made for me, but this canvas in particular.

I had checked on her and sent her a couple of cards of encouragement during lockdown - something and nothing, lots of us were doing this for each other, weren’t we. She wrote some words on the back that are as lovely as the Maya Angelou quote on the front, and I have happily looked on these words every time I use my workroom since, slightly awed and a bit smug that she should apply such words to me. She had so many gifts: we knew her artistic flair, her unending love for her family as it grew and flourished, her devotion to Phil. She didn’t believe in her artistic skill, however much we tried to convince her. Her great friend Maggie Craner  has written a beautiful tribute to Debbie and talks about this in more detail. Everything about Debbie though, is now for me, summed up in this Maya Angelou quote. Not only will I always remember her talent, her love, her giggle;  I will never ever forget the way she made me feel.