They shared a beautiful small home, in a tiny, remote town on California's "lost coast," living a simple life. When I visited them in 2022, we shared a laugh over their kitchen goods: only a few plates, mason jars for glasses, but an expensive, high-tech kettle to bring the water to the exact, correct heat for their fancy French press. Because what's really important in life? Coffee!
We ate breakfast on their tiny balcony, looking out onto the wild beauty of the mountains and listening to the surf. Eva told me that every night after dinner, they watch the sun set on the ocean. We walked across the road and down a few feet -- not even a five-minute walk -- and settled in to their spot to take in the beauty.
By saying that Eva was intensely spiritual, caring, and present, I don't mean to portray her as saccharine or prim. She had a sharp sense of humour and could surprise you with hilarious, biting observations. She laughed a lot, because she found great joy and also great hilarity in the world.
Eva was never preachy or showy or militant about her life choices. I marvelled at her ability to meet people wherever they were. Eva was the embodiment of the expression be the change you wish to see in the world. She had been an activist for a while when she was younger, but gave that up. I sensed that choice was connected to her Buddhist spirituality, but we never talked about it explicitly. She knew I was an activist, and she was always interested what I had going on. I hope I was always as positive about her life choices as she was about mine. I learned a lot about acceptance from Eva. You don't have to understand everyone. You only have to accept them as they are.
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Eva and I had a special bond. We were both the youngest in our families, and both chose life paths that were outside family expectations and perhaps not always understood. We both chose not to have children.
She lived in Auroville for a time, an intentional community in the south of India, and traveled alone in India for an extended period of time.
She worked as a cook, feeding staff and visitors of the Spirit Rock Meditation Centre, and as a massage therapist. Eva was also an artist. She once traveled to a remote part of Maine to meet and spend time with a relative of my mother's who is an artist, just to connect.
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Eva grew up in New Jersey, and when she and her brothers were younger, Allan and I were the "cool aunt and uncle" across the river in New York City. We would hang out together, see grunge bands or musicians performing in coffee houses, and just walk around the city, poking around bookstores, record stores, maybe stopping in an art gallery, finding fun inexpensive places to eat. Eva really enjoyed that, and also liked going to the occasional baseball game with us.
I want to capture two NYC memories that we laughed about whenever we saw each other for years -- just the punchlines. One is the musician in the coffee house singing about The Big Toe. The other was the guy on his cell phone in Di Fara Pizza: "I'm in fucking Brooklyn! Eating pizza!" I was actually blogging already at that time! I wrote about it here.
Our time together when we were younger formed a deep bond that lived on. When she was already living in California, she had some reason to be in New Jersey, and while she was on that side of the continent, visited us in Ontario -- twice. This was no small thing. It meant a lot.
I'm so incredibly grateful that when I visited my Oregon family in 2022, I visited Eva and Tim in Shelter Cove. I had an incredibly beautiful six-hour drive, then spent two nights and a full day with them. (From there I drove down to the Bay Area and visited another nephew (one of Eva's brothers) and niece-in-law, and met my new grand-nephew.)
That was the first time in many years that Eva and I spent quality, alone time together, and the only time I hung out with her and Tim alone. We had so much fun -- serious talks, tons of laughs, the incredible coastal beauty. We had dinner with some of Tim's family who lives nearby, and they welcomed me as family in the warmest, most genuine way. Most importantly, I saw Eva and Tim -- their beautiful partnership, their boundless love for each other.
Tim was much older than Eva, actually a couple of years older than her father (my brother). This raised eyebrows, of course, as did Tim's unconventional life. But would Eva ever have chosen a conventional person as her partner? Spending time with Eva and Tim, I saw the deep love they shared, the world they created and inhabited together, and I was so happy for them. I also shared these observations with my mother, and it brought her a lot of joy, too.
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Eva was always lovely and attractive, but as she got older, she really came into her own beauty and style. She had warm, deep brown eyes, a big, bright smile, and gorgeous, thick, brown hair. She didn't wear makeup (as far as I know) and always looked slim and physically fit. I picture her in jeans and boots, a cotton tee or a plaid flannel shirt, or at a family function, in a simple dress and a colourful scarf, looking both totally natural and totally elegant.
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The last time I saw Eva was in late June of 2024. My brother and sister-in-law had just moved our mother into an assisted living facility, and we were helping sort through her things. My mother wanted us to take anything of hers we wanted; it made her happy to know that some of her possessions would continue to be valued, and that her children and grandchildren would enjoy and benefit from them.
Eva took some furniture. My brother helped her tie it down in the bed of her truck. We hugged and said I love you. Then I watched her drive off in her truck, smiling and happy, on her way back to home, California, and Tim.
2 comments:
That was a marvellous tribute Laura - thanks so much.
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Thank you, Ross. And thank you for visiting.
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