A couple of years ago, I was called by a lady from Texas by the name of Jan who needed medical transport for her 98-year-old mother. Jean lived independently in a seniors complex but had no family in Canada to ensure she got to her medical appointments. Thus began a three year relationship which saw me act as her surrogate family in between visits from her faithful daughter and granddaughters. During COVID, I visited with her a couple of times a week, every week. At Christmas, I shared time with her when she was moved to a nursing home.
Throughout our relationship, Jean would regale me with tales of her upbringing and times past. I will always remember her fondness for Ginger Ale, Cheesies, and KFC. When I would take her to get hearing aids adjusted, we made sure either a Tim Horton’s or a KFC was part of the trip. On one occasion, while sharing a snack, we drove by the old family home. The home had been sold years prior and she quickly dismissed the paint job as unattractive. “That’s no good,” she remarked. I have this story and many other memories to treasure of the dear friend she became. Jean passed away a year ago or so at the age of 101. I will miss her dearly but regard it as a privilege to have known her.