I count myself wealthy because you were my friend, Vanessa. More than that, all your qualities and quirks came to BE England for me the year I spent working there.
Vanessa and Phil were “assigned” by my UK counterpart to look after me and my husband when we spent a year living across the lane from them. Not only were Vanessa and Phil extraordinary at helping us to integrate into life in England and not feel too isolated, they became valued lifelong friends and confidants. Though Vanessa and I are very different people, we “clicked” from the beginning-- having in common the most important things-- like valuing human decency, compassion, integrity, authenticity, humour, family, friendship and fun.
Few people I know live life as fully as you did, Vanessa, with your endless energy and playful wit and true-hearted loyalty to those you loved. As I call you to mind, I hear your infectious laugh and see the sparkle of fun and mischief in your eyes; I see the passionate lifeforce you exuded. Vanessa, you were kind to people-- not in that silly, girly, pushover way – but in honest and practical ways: you had the capacity to think about another person and figure out ways to help; you were not stingy or fake in the giving of yourself.
I’m not sure if I can explain what I mean when I say you came to be England for me, Vanessa. That year I spent teaching in Maidstone was a difficult one for me, and not many people at my school reached out to me in friendship. Yet, from the first day I arrived in Sheppey (and you and Phil took us to Tesco) right through today, I have loved England. Much of that I attribute to you. You effortlessly transformed me from an outsider looking in, generously taking me into your life and circle, willingly and amusingly translating British culture for me. We took numerous walks and day trips (and even a week-long one!). We talked about politics and history and language and art and food and family and housework and colour and just anything we felt like, big or small.
There are literary and historical lovers whose names everyone knows: Romeo and Juliet, Antony and Cleopatra, Beatrice and Dante. To my husband and me, Phil and Vanessa’s love was of that legendary caliber. They were romantic: I can picture them now, strolling in front of us, holding hands like teenagers on our way home from the local pub, their love never growing tired or predictable. They were complementary: they fit together like puzzle pieces and respected unquestioningly the qualities and interests each brought into the relationship. The love and admiration and support they had for one another showed in their every move and word and look. When Phil told me the grandkids merged their names into one, I was not surprised. They are such a solid unit.
Our hearts are broken at the news of Vanessa’s death. We are immeasurably grateful for the time we had with her – and all the intervening years of felt-friendship, even when we did not see her. Hard to say farewell to one so vibrant, so beautiful and so true as our Vanessa.
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