A New Season, A Threshold Between Worlds

Spring has arrived, and with it, a quiet sense of renewal. I’ve recently moved to a place that feels suspended between two worlds. On one side, I’m surrounded by people my age and older—each of us carrying a tapestry of memories, experience, and the gentle awareness of time’s swift passage. On the other side of my building, there's a nursery where the joyful echoes of children fill the air. The contrast is striking—and oddly poetic. The children radiate a vibrant, untamed energy, while we savor the richness of our lives, aware of the fleeting nature of each moment.

As I prepare to enter a new decade, I feel immense gratitude for all the beauty life has offered me. I remember, as a young woman, how I admired older people—their wisdom, the chapters they had lived, the grace with which they carried their stories.

Lately, that reverence has taken on a deeper, more personal meaning. I recently lost a dear friend, Thérèse, who had been a part of my life since 1989, when we first met at the United Nations. Her daughter’s message came quietly, almost like a whisper in the midst of a chaotic time: Thérèse had passed away a month ago.

I was heartbroken. We had last spoken on February 14th. A month later, on March 16th, she was gone. I had intended to visit her, but life swept me into a tide of change—moving homes, coping with the end of a relationship—and I waited too long. That delay is something I now carry with a quiet ache. She saw me, valued me, even when I didn’t quite have it all together. Despite my impulsiveness, despite the scattered nature of my choices—she appreciated me.

Thérèse was formidable. Driven, brilliant, and strong. When I told her I was leaving the UN to get married in Montreal, she looked at me with disbelief and said, “You’re crazy.” In many ways, we were opposites. She was fiercely independent, rising to the position of Under-Secretary-General for Public Information at the UN—a remarkable achievement. I had the privilege of being her assistant before I left. Not long after, she returned to Montreal too.

We stayed connected over the years. I visited her home, filled with warmth and intelligent conversation, and she often came to mine. Her friendship was a gift. I was always in awe of her relationship with Robert—her husband of over fifty years. Theirs was a rare bond, full of mutual respect and deep kindness. It stood as a quiet example of what enduring love could look like.

Thérèse was truly one of a kind. I miss her deeply. And yet, I find comfort in knowing that her spirit is now free from the constraints of a body that could no longer keep up with her strength. Her legacy lives on in all of us who were fortunate enough to know her.