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Hedie Epp was an enthusiastic traveller and a wonderful correspondent.<\/p>\n
I was intrigued, as it hinted at some inner turmoil.<\/p>\n
A year later, I heard from Hedie again on a different topic. This time she told me a little about herself: \u201c80, never married, no kids.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was impressed by her articulacy, her ability to convey tone \u2014 sarcasm, irony, wry humour \u2014 via email. She would offer a salutation and then cut to the chase, raising existential questions that many people grapple with: What\u2019s the point for my existence? What\u2019s the meaning of life if you live it alone?<\/p>\n
I noticed that she was now using a different maxim as her email endnote: \u201cThe only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was a quote I valued as well, and one I had used in my own writing. I enjoyed our exchange of ideas and hoped to hear from her again.<\/p>\n
Before long I proposed a phone call and she was receptive.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m always distracted by how weird I look on video calls, and by phone I won\u2019t even have to comb my hair!\u201d she wrote, and I could hear the smile in her words.<\/p>\n
We had a grand chat. Hedie felt like someone I would love to know \u2014 sharp, funny, with a dry sense of humour and a keen sense of observation. She was well read, a seasoned traveller and culturally sophisticated, with a huge appreciation for the arts. She told me about her career and her volunteer work, her choir and her clog dancing.<\/p>\n
She still used emoticons, which was charmingly old-school, and was a self-professed \u201ctechno-saur.\u201d She told me she had visited St. John\u2019s that summer and was thwarted in her attempt to see Cabot Tower on Signal Hill by a change in the weather. (Newfoundland is nothing if not predictable in its climatic unpredictability.)<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat a shock that was to see how fast the dense fog rolled in!\u201d Hedie wrote.<\/p>\n
She told me that her name was pronounced \u201c\u2018HAY-dee,\u2019 to rhyme with \u2018shady lady\u2019\u201d and sent me a photo of herself at 18,000 feet at Mount Everest base camp. I loved the twinkle of mischief in her eyes and her sartorial flair \u2014 she was one of those people who could make a burlap sack look chic.<\/p>\n
Our email conversations continued, and we soon moved on to topics beyond what I was writing about in the Free Press \u2014 life, death, family, relationships. \u201cIt\u2019s a little scary trusting thoughts and feelings to someone else, but I do trust you,\u201d she wrote. I trusted her as well, and awaited her replies with eager anticipation. She had become a true friend and confidante.<\/p>\n
This year, I floated the idea of her coming to visit my husband and me in St. John\u2019s. I wanted to see Hedie in person, and to hear more stories about her remarkable and exciting life \u2014 from working as an extra on a film set in Rome in the 1960s with Sam Elliott and Ryan O\u2019Neal to making an appearance as \u201can elegant old lady\u201d in Begonia\u2019s video for the anthemic My Fantasy Life in 2025. She had a trip to Europe planned for May and then she would see, she said.<\/p>\n
When I hadn\u2019t heard from her by the middle of June, I wrote to ask about her adventures and to encourage her to come. A month went by with no reply, which was completely out of character. Something told me to Google her, and when I did I was shocked to find her obituary, with Hedie smiling back at me from the same Mount Everest photo she had sent me herself.<\/p>\n
She had died two days before my last email to her and I had no idea. \u201cPassed away peacefully in her sleep,\u201d her death notice said.<\/p>\n
\n\t\tWinnipeg Free Press | Newsletter\n\t<\/p>\n
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Now I find myself awash in sadness for the loss of this person I will never get to meet. And I remember the lines she wrote to me when I was about to lose someone I cared about.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe never forget,\u201d Hedie wrote, \u201cand the sadness of missing them returns often over the years, together with smiles in the recollections and the feeling of love for them which never goes away.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rest in peace, dear friend. May strains of Haydn and Schubert follow you wherever you go.<\/p>\n
Pam Frampton lives in St. John\u2019s. <\/p>\n
Email pamelajframpton@gmail.com<\/p>\n
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Pam Frampton Pam Frampton is a columnist for the Free Press. She has worked in print media since 1990 and has been offering up her opinions for more than 20 years. Read more about Pam<\/a>.<\/p>\n Pam\u2019s columns are built on facts, but offer her personal views through arguments and analysis. Every column Pam produces is reviewed by an editing team before it is posted online or published in print \u2014 part of the Free Press\u2018s tradition, since 1872, of producing reliable independent journalism. Read more about Free Press\u2019s history and mandate<\/a>, and learn how our newsroom operates<\/a>.<\/p>\n
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