In Memory of Meg Torwl

Our dear friend Meg Torwl, a contributor to The Writers Caravan, our 5th chapbook, passed quietly June 21st, right in time for equinox and a lovely full moon. Meg had a peaceful passing.

Here she is a few weeks ago at a birthday event listening to a friend.

 

 

Meg’s friend Dhana Musil, another Writers Caravan contributor and colleague from The Writers Studio posted this info on Facebook:

 

Meg’s memorial /celebration of life will be held Sunday June 30th at 5pm in the common room of 1385 Draycott Rd in North Vancouver. This is where Meg had her birthday /literary salon last month. Potluck style, any stories, readings, songs or whatnot are encouraged. Please pass this on to any of Megs friends who aren’t on FB and would like to come. No need to rsvp, unless you have further questions.

 

Here is Meg’s piece from The Writers Caravan, a text that embodies her optimism and wit. We wish her family and friends peace.

 

Eight Doors to Happiness

Meg Torwl

 

exiting my apartment in the electrified chairiot flakes of green paint fall from the hallway wall. elevator. just fit. reach far right as I can for the button. back out. small steep blue-carpeted-ramp. lean forward, crack the-door-to-the-great-outdoors with my left foot. charge uncontrollably through the door frame, veering right to avoid smacking in to the neighbors brown wooden fence. buddha says: cherish others.

 

the second bus stop is wheelchair accessible. insist the driver straps my three hundred pound vehicle down. at the seabus terminal I could release the red nylon straps myself. left hand behind my back pushing the lever on the seat. right hand grappling to the front of my wheelchair to unhook the black metal hooks. this may be how I dislocate my left shoulder. best not. sit. waiting-for-the-bus-driver-to-help-me. lower the ramp. buddha says: exchange self with others.

 

one minute and fifty-four seconds to get down the gang-plank. if there is no staff to open the door into the loading area, I will crash through opening-the-door-with-my-foot. bump up and down the final shiny silver ramp. manoeuvre in to the space between the last seat and door. recline the wheelchair. relax. water birds, harbor seals, v formations of canada geese flying just above the ocean. buddha says: wish happiness to all living beings.

 

last on. last off. navigate the crowded gangway. exiting the milieu left via the elevator. which takes twenty seconds to arrive, but always seems much longer. zoom past fellow passengers up the gangway, wheels humming loudly on the plastic nobbled flooring. past the doors where busker’s tones lift the air. through the double doors with the self-opening-wheelchair-access-push-button. the grand concourse: people scurrying in all directions. colonial paintings set high in the alcoves of the molded ceiling. to the self-opening-wheelchair-access-push-button-door to the street. homeless people wait for coins and kindness. buddha says: offer compassion.

 

cross walk. weaving through people waiting on wet pavement for buses. umbrellas raised. the self-opening-wheelchair-access-push-button-door enters the food court. past: poster store. pictures of rainbow parachutists stacked on top of one another. map of earth. bag store with neon neoprene orange and green backpacks. dollar store, pink, blue bobbly woolen gloves. militant security guard. curious self-opening-wheelchair-access-push-button-door with the button right next to a seat in the food court. patron’s faces register alarm as I speed towards them, they think, with malicious intent. buddha says: love everyone.

 

lean forward awkwardly to push the button. try to get out of the way as the door opens towards me. hitting me. through to the elevator lobby. pushing the buttons for both elevators so one will come. you never know which. positioning self in between. there is not enough time to enter before the door closes. slamming in to me. budda says: admit defeat and offer the victory.

 

exit the elevator into the office building lobby. there is a door on the left side closest to the university building. but it has no self-opening-wheelchair-access-push-button. so, to the right where the self-opening-wheelchair-access-push-button-door is. along the street to the self-opening-wheelchair-access-push-button-door to the university. difficult to get up beside the button. flush to the rough hewn stone building. the door opens towards me, but slowly so there is no danger of being hit. buddha says: offer the healing practice of taking and giving.

 

to class! the-door-is-open. no way to negotiate an electric wheelchair between desks. classmates move them. buddha says: be grateful for the kindness of others which make all things possible.