On Saturday we learned that our dear friend Jill, M. Jilland Norwood (nee Charbonneau) passed away on Thursday, April 26, 2007. Jill was only 60, and was widely known for her breezy, youthful spirit and sparkling sense of humour. Our deepest sympathies go out to her true love and companion, Donald Norwood, who is also a close friend of ours, and to all family members who held Jill in their hearts.

We are now at that age, having already lost our parents and perhaps even a sibling along the way, where, as my late father used to say, “we are next up”. The realisation is upon us that there no longer exists a generational barrier between us and our own mortality. Perhaps that is one reason why the death of a friend cuts us so profoundly. But it isn’t the only reason, at least not in this case.

Jill was simply one of the good people. We all know at least one person like her, although their rarity makes us appreciate them all the more. She was first and foremost a true friend to her husband, and carried herself at all times with the dignity of a lady at his side.

And yet she was also her own person. Her uncommon wit stood apart from the crowd, and never failed to spread laughter among those fortunate enough to know her. She made friends quickly, easily and firmly, having the exceptional ability to put even strangers at their ease. Her humour was the intelligent sort, always on the mark, but never biting or malicious. Jill was a human being who was full of kindness and grace, who strove always to lift others up, and never to put them down.

We can close our eyes at any time and see her on the beach, in the surreal sunshine that belonged always to us on Georgian Bay, walking beside Donald and stopping to chat with everyone along the way. In our memories the sunshine lights up her hair and her face is always curved in a smile, full of the joy of life.

A few short months ago, Jill became ill with a cold that would not go away. Shortly thereafter she was diagnosed with cancer in her brain and lungs. I will never forget receiving that call.

Even as she told me the news, her irrepressible humour still came through. Referring to a tumour that had been found in her brain floating in a bubble of liquid, she said, “You see, I always told you I was a bubble head! Now I have an excuse.” And she laughed in that charming way of hers, the one that always made me laugh along with her.

Good bye for now, Jill, until we meet again on that sunny shore…