This week I lost a dear friend.  She was not a famous actor killed in a tragic car crash like Paul Walker.  Nor was she a former world leader and activist like Nelson Mandela. She was not a Nobel Peace Prize winner like Mother Teresa.  But in her own small way the things she did and the contributions she made had a global impact. She was a leader in her field and she was my friend. She was also too young to die and was taken too quickly.

We first met when she interviewed me for a job. We instantly hit it off as we had so much in common – we had raised our children alone after the breakup of our marriages, we shared a love of music and words, we shared a passion for learning. She became my mentor as I entered the world of English language teaching; she became my colleague as we worked side by side; and she became my friend as an extra benefit of our work relationship.

I have so many memories of the times we shared by at work and outside of work over the past nineteen years.

I remember how we laughed about my interview and the fact that I didn’t realise till halfway through that I was still wearing my prescription sunglasses.

I remember how she called me after the interview and told me that, although they wouldn’t have any students for a few months she really wanted me on staff and hoped I wouldn’t accept another offer before they had a class for me.

I recall us collaborating on so many projects together. Like teaching exam preparation to a group of German businessmen who already had almost native speaker English proficiency. Working together on a conference paper about a drama project I had been doing with my students. Developing a whole college language activity that is still run annually. Travelling to Melbourne and Brisbane together for conferences.

I remember the staff and student concerts where we performed together, with her on guitar or banjo and both of us singing.and the time where we did a parody of a Spice Girls song with other staff. And the time, in her office when, with other staff, we wrote the lyrics for a college song.

I remember listening to her singing the songs she wrote and the joy she got from performing despite the nervousness she felt each time. And the way she appreciated the talents of others and encouraged them to pursue their dreams.

I remember the times we went shopping together ans see he striding around a shoe shop trying out a new pair of shoes and then returning those same shoes later in the day because she didn’t really like them. And the time we went shopping for new clothes for her new job in Western Samoa and bought colour coordinated sarongs, singlet tops and sandals (such a contrast from the smart business attire she had worn when we worked together).

I remember the time she saw a suit she really liked and then realised it cost about $2000. “Typical, I always pick the clothes out of my budget! Maybe we can stop eating so I can afford it.”, she quipped, though I knew she would never make her children do without so she could buy something she would have considered overly extravagant.

I remember spending time with her and her family in a house that always welcomed guests. I remember her running around at the monthly local  fair she organised, chatting to the stall-holders and joking about anything and everything.

I remember her passion about environmental and human rights issues and her forthrightness in speaking about these.

I remember that, in her career as a teacher, she helped tens of thousands of students from all over the world to develop their language skills and to extend their critical thinking skills. I remember that her course book has been used by tens of thousands more so her influence has been felt by so many who she never met.

I remember the time we went to see ‘The Wedding Singer” and she laughed so much she nearly fell of her seat at the cinema.  As I write this I hear her laughter and smile at the memory.

I remember her wise counsel, her guidance and her friendship.  The advice she gave me in my job was always valued and I cherish the memory of long chats over coffee while she mentored me in my career development.

I remember the last time I saw her, after the devastating diagnosis of terminal cancer. Although the disease was impacting on her short-term memory, she was still vibrant and articulate when speaking about the old days, her family, our time working together. And she was still finding humour in the world around her.

I am grateful for the times we spent together and for the fact that, although months passed between visits, it was always as though we had just seen one another.

She was not famous but she has some renown in her field of expertise. She was not famous but those who knew he loved and respected her. She was not famous but she gave so much to so many.  Her legacy lives on in the lives she has touched, in the achievements and successes of the students she taught, in the causes she has championed and in the thoughts and memories of her families and friends.

She was a mother, a grandmother,sister, a teacher, a leader, a writer, a musician, a friend, a colleague.  She is gone but will not be forgotten.  Rest in peace, dear friend. I will miss you immensely.