If there has been a red thread running through my life, it’s been that I’ve always tried to live without regrets. By which I mean, I’ve been more likely to say yes than oh… I don’t know about that when opportunities have presented themselves. I’ve taken chances, travelled, changed careers, and not wasted a lot of time thinking oh, what if or, if only.
This afternoon, though, I’ve come face to face with a regret – for not having stayed in touch with Morris Lamrock, a dear friend from many years ago. I’ve been attending his celebration of life today – via Facetime. Being able to participate from miles away is both a gift and a frustration – I’ve been able to share in parts of what has been going on, but the connection has dropped a couple of times, including now, when the group of those present in person has headed off to plant a tree in his honour.
We should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry them forward into the future with us. —Lucy Maude Montromery
A tree - what a fitting tribute to someone who was so passionate about planting, tending, and nurturing living things – plants, animals, and his human community. Way back in the day, he started up the Moss Street Market in Victoria – we sat on the board together and dreamed of ways to nourish our community in body, mind, and spirit.
During the time when we were close, he lived on a couple of different farms where we spent many hours digging in the dirt, mulching, and delighting in the inimitable flavours of peas picked fresh from the vine.
We talked, sang, and played John Denver songs on our guitars – when he pulled out his tin whistle and started to play, it was impossible not to smile. We talked about utopian visions, ecovillages, building with natural materials, organic food, making our communities stronger, music, and so much more.
We brainstormed together over a good name for his brainchild – and together came up with the name S.O.I.L. – Stewards of Irreplaceable Land. Other than my small part in the naming, the rest of the legacy is his – the program offers a way to connect organic farmers with young people wanting to learn about sustainable food-growing practices.
After he moved to the Yukon he was involved with kids, camping, and the environment and played a role as a peacemaker and community-builder as well as being a devoted family man. He and his wife Susie Anne Bartsch started a thrift store and grew a lush garden together.
How did we so completely lose touch? Time. Distance. Travel. We each had a daughter. We moved away. Our paths diverged and our contact over the past too many years was mostly through third parties. More than a decade ago he contributed a page to my 50th birthday book in which he wrote in part that he didn’t feel done with our friendship. I suspect we have more meadows to meander and dreams to manifest. Let’s gather ourselves together and see what the stars portend.
He left his mark on many. He was a visionary, a kind soul, someone who possessed a deep well of humour and thoughtfulness. I will miss him and therein lies one of the few regrets I now carry. I wish I had reconnected, taken him up on his offer of visiting the Yukon, done a better job of staying in touch and being a friend.
If you need a prompt to reach out and say hello to someone you care about, there it is. It doesn’t matter how many years have slipped by – there are few things that are more important than staying in touch and nurturing those who matter to us.
If you’d like to know more about Mo, here’s a link to his obituary.
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Maybe not my place to say, Nikki, but if Morris was thinking hopefully about the future of your friendship after all those years, I suspect that he remembered you as fondly as you remember him -- and that he felt your presence to the end. Thanks for sharing this lovely memorial.