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My friend Gyma
When I think about my friend Gyma, two words come to mind, fearlessness and fearfulness. You may ask how two such diverse words
could exist in one person but to know her was to understand that her life was a quest for wholeness which she approached fearlessly.
Gyma was always motivated to experience anything and everything whether she was afraid of the outcome or not.
In 1992, at age 42 armed with her new Georgian College nursing diploma and a rickety old Toyota she left Orillia, and headed for Toronto.
She did not get very far before The Toyota gave a final gasp and stalled on the highway.
Undeterred by a lack of a transport for the first time in her life, Gyma made her way to the city and found work with a nursing agency that
brought her to Doctor’s Hospital, now closed. She worked fearlessly, in all departments wherever shifts were available. She used a
professional and innate knowledge of patient care that earned her a tremendous amount of respect. No challenge was too big or too
small. She was particularly sensitive to children and palliative care patients. In 1997, when hospital closures threatened her job security
she took on any other work in the hospital. She also returned to learning as a way of increasing her skills in readiness for what ever was
offered. Attaining the CAMT designation in aromatherapy was as satisfying as her nursing diploma.   At the time of her death she was
employed at Stevenson memorial Hospital in Alliston.
I met Gyma shortly after her arrival at Doctor’s Hospital. After a chance conversation and a shared lunch we worked our way into a very
special relationship that changed both our lives. No one knows why two people find common ground. But good and lasting friendships are
always intensely personal and complex. Gyma was my friend, confidante, sister, mother, counselor, supporter and colleague. I like to
think that I fulfilled the same roles in her life.   I am here today in celebration of her life, and to share my observations of her exemplary
character, loving nature and caring personality.
I admired Gyma’s incredible work ethic. If she didn’t know, she found out. She didn’t take chances with her patients and clients but she
would go that extra mile for them. This did not make her unpopular. Her colleagues respected her because she would go that extra mile
for them too.
When I think about extra miles, I think about going places. Gyma and I traveled a lot. We both liked driving! We traveled east to Nova
Scotia, west to Vancouver and Los Angeles, south to Florida and lots of spots in between. Gyma did most of the driving. She would drive
for hours through the night telling me to sleep and I did because I trusted her with my life. We drove through fog and rain, tropical storms
icy frigid snow storms and bright sunshine days. We drove on highways, winding mountain roads, dusty desert plains, and deserted back
roads. We drove over bridges which I hated and through tunnels which she hated. If she was afraid, I never knew until I would hear the
music of Kitaro playing but she always drove fearlessly.
Preparation for trips was always a challenge. Gyma had fears of weather systems. She left her birthplace of California worried about the
possibilities of earthquakes. Moving earth was just too unstable for her.   Long before Tsunami became a front page word, Gyma could
have told you all about earthquakes and tides. Her favourite station was the weather channel and her day always started and ended with
reports from local and national services.    She checked the weather in areas where I lived, her children and her parents lived so that she
would know what was happening. Living in Singhamptom was an enormous challenge for her. Singhamptom has its own weather
system that defies any local news reports but as expected Gyma began to sniff out the air and could know at a glance what could be
expected. Long after neighbours were in bed and the roads were empty at night or early morning and through all seasons she could be
seen making her way home fearlessly. With a special intuitive knowledge that was her gift, she somehow always knew when to drive and
when to be safe. The car accident that preceded her death was uncharacteristic.
Gyma had few dreams that remain unfulfilled as we celebrate her life here today. When I met her, a happy home life had eluded her for
years. She longed for stability and grounding. She achieved her goal in 2001 with the purchase of a house in Singhampton.   Over the next
four years she turned it into a home.
Much of the décor was probably original 1901 but she worked hard, with skills she learned before nursing, to tear down and rebuild much
of the inside to create that haven for herself and a workspace for our Holistic Health Care business. She fearlessly climbed ladders,
plastered walls, tore down shelves, plugged holes in siding, fixed windows, dug dirt and enlisted help when needed to make it a magical
special place. One by one her wish list for the house became a reality.
In creating a home for herself, she felt able to work on the one area of her life which created the most sadness and fear. For deeply
personal reasons, she spent years separated from her children.   She admitted being afraid to try and renew contact with them but when
an opportunity presented itself she seized the moment and faced each of them with all the love in her heart that she had saved for such a
moment, such a possibility. In her own fearless way she was prepared for the worst but her honest and open love won over her children
one by one. In this day and age where first names fly between people of all generations, the wives of her sons also embrace her openly
calling her Mom and meaning it in every way. Over and over these past few days I have heard them say, “ how can we say goodbye when
we only just said hello?”
Longevity was not a gift to Gyma. Her rocking chair will sit idle by the fire she loved. In our many conversations, she admitted to having
fears of dying prematurely. Those fears have now been realized but she would have few regrets, for she lived life fully extracting all she
could and embracing everything she could, fearlessly even when she was afraid. As I drove around town this past week, I noticed the flags
at half mast for a beloved leader who passed. Today my heart is at half mast for a beloved friend. Her courage and her life lived is an
inspiration to us all.