I read the papers and the obituaries almost every day. I don’t know how anybody can die in this city without me finding out about it, especially if it makes the news, and especially if they’re a friend of mine. But Rita did.
I ran into my friend John last week and he mentioned in passing something about Rita’s death. He just assumed I’d have heard.
I wish I had known. I’d have wanted to go to her memorial service. Pay my last respects, and all that.
John apologized for being the bearer of bad news, and sketched in the details.
It was a house fire one night in April. Firefighters managed to bring her out and resuscitate her. She was airlifted to a specialized burn unit in Toronto, where she died four days later.
I looked it up later that night. Read the obituary and the newspaper articles, watched the news clip. I hadn’t even heard there was a fatal fire.
I find myself thinking a lot about the layout of Rita’s apartment, and imagining variations on the horrifying scene. She had a guest sleeping over, who did manage to escape, but Rita was trapped. I think about how desperate and terrified she must have felt.
Here are some things I can tell you about Rita.
She was a firecracker. She was in her fifties, but lived life like she was twenty. She loved to party and have fun. When she laughed, she laughed with everything she had. She didn’t much care for rules; life was about having as much fun as possible without getting caught. She enjoyed hosting dinner parties and feeding her friends, but I don’t think she actually ate much herself. She was tiny and she ran on the pure energy that coursed through her veins. She was an intense and loyal friend. She could be preposterous and outrageous. She could be tough and gritty. But for all that, she was sensitive; when she was hurt, she was very deeply hurt. Rita was many things, but she was never a person of half measures. She always went all the way.
Even though I was shocked by her death, upon further reflection I realized I would never have expected Rita to simply grow old and die in her sleep. She was destined to die by misadventure. I just wish it could have been something more exhilarating than a house fire. Maybe skydiving or climbing the CN Tower or overdosing on life.
Goodbye Rita. We’ll miss you. (I’d say Rest in Peace, but somehow I doubt that’s how you’d want to spend all eternity.)
Bluesfest 2007 - That's Rita on the right
Nice tribute Zoom. I remember the day we walked down Wellington St. and Rita jumped up from her seat on the patio outside the Royal Oak to embrace you and then looked at me with a big smile and said “You must be GC!”. She gave me a big hug, instantly welcoming me to her life and insisted we join her for a drink. She wanted to take us home and feed us lasagna but we were on our way somewhere so we had to take a raincheck…
I remember that!
When I die, I want someone to write about me with the affection and admiration that you have for Rita. She was lucky to inspire such friendship.
Thanks Laurie. I have no doubt that when your time comes – at some point in the very distance future! – your wish will be granted.
What Laurie said. And I’d love to have known Rita for however long she was on Earth. Maybe next lifetime…? (A girl can hope.)
Toni, I hope for a next lifetime too. You never know…
A very moving tribute to your friend, Zoom. A tragic end to a life well lived. My sympathy to you on the loss of your friend.
Thank you Eileen. One thing I learned from cancer is that the measure of a life is quality, not quantity. A person can live a full life in a short time.