Oct. 21, 2009 Maureen
by Erin Cowan

Some of the greatest tragedies in this world are those that take people away before their time. It’s the cycle of life and inevitable, but the world grows a little dimmer without those special individuals.

My first memory of my cousin Maureen was at my great-uncle’s home in Lac Saugay, Quebec. He lived in the home that my grandmother’s family had lived in for many years. I remember the colourful glass ornaments hanging from tree branches, glittering in the summer sun, the constant murmur of gathered relatives and the smell of barbecued meat, simmering over charcoal. I remember his German Shephard, Lupo, but I think that one in particular was the 3rd or 4th in a long line of Lupos.

In the midst of my blurry memory, I remember a woman with bright, wavy red hair and a wide smile. I remember seeing her hearing aids and instantly feeling connected to her. I don’t recollect much more from that family reunion, but Maureen’s face is so clear in my mind to this day.

Maureen came to our home for Christmas when I was a pre-teen. She had just gotten a Hearing-Ear dog and she brought him with her. I admired her for being comfortable with broadcasting an invisible disability. I admired her being independent despite the limitations of deafness. I aspired to be like her.

The last time I saw her wide smile was in New Brunswick a few years ago. She had moved out there on a whim and had adjusted to life on the East Coast quickly. Again, I looked up to her for being so fearless. Maureen spoke of her hearing impairment during that visit in a way I hadn’t heard her speak about it before. She laughed about the silly things she would say when she misheard people, the awkward moments and comments made out of context.

She understood.

She understood what it was like, but she taught me how to laugh about it. She made light of a daily struggle. She taught me how to accept my disability and not be ashamed of it. I am still growing and adjusting and I one day hope to be as independent and secure as she was.

Maureen passed away during the summer of 2007 to a short battle with lung cancer. I wish I could have had more time with her. I wish I could have learned more from her. Most of all, I miss having someone who understands. I’ll always picture her face when the going gets rough and just try to laugh.