Valerie Jeanne Elder

Valerie Jeanne was lots of things. But above all, we think she’d want to be remembered as an entertainer, in all the facets that she was in her life; a storyteller, a muse, a grande dame.

She played many roles on many types of stages. She was lauded. She travelled, and she won many awards. She made her closest friends throughout her life on the road in her band, in community theatre, in two-handers, hosting events. There are more programs and press clippings and scripts than we can keep track of. She played a mean tambourine.

She was a singing telegram. She was the first to be dressed for every holiday in the schools, restaurants and offices where she worked. Wherever she was, she naturally became the external face — the greeter, the cheerleader, the mouthpiece. The master of ceremonies.

She loved to create an experience and hold court over it. When Jeremy, around 10 years old, lamented that with a March birthday in rural Saskatchewan he’d never get to have a party outside, the kitchen furniture was suddenly cleared. Cardboard clouds were hung with a styrofoam sun in the corner and a picnic was had on the linoleum floor.

She believed in dreams. Her own, and ours, and yours.

She loved to talk. (Sometimes too much.) But at the same time, she gave you space to talk and would not only listen but absorb what she was being told. She gathered emotions.

To us, she never seemed happier than when she talked about how much she loved her friends. This week, her friends have told us that, to them, she never seemed happier than when she talked about her sons.

She was eclectic and eccentric. She kept shiny things in glass boxes. She was the epitome of “fashion before function” — she loved to wear pieces that made a statement, that would garner a bit of attention. Her closet is a rainbow. She collected prisms that burst light into colour and spread them across the rooms she lived in.

She wasn’t afraid to look foolish to make another person happy. And so, consequently, she was no fool.

She made many, many people laugh.

She was different, proud of it and she stuck by it. She was special in a way that meant some people wouldn’t understand her. She was bolder and kookier than the places she found herself in, and, at times that made her feel out of place. She was born and lived and died on the piece of the world with the widest horizons and the tallest skies and, despite that, her personality was bigger than all of it.

We could tell you many more things, but what we think she would really want is another audience. She could hold a crowd in her hand — so we think the most fitting thing would be to give voice to her own words, one last time.

Today we found a letter she wrote to her parents, our grandparents, more than 15 years ago. We don’t think she intended for it to ever be read by anyone else. They are both gone, and now she is gone. And yet this statement from her, that we didn’t know existed, is suddenly here. And alive. And yearning to be read.

It feels right to us that her last monologue be right from her:

“We, none of us, know where life might lead us. We all have hopes and dreams. We all experience joy and sorrow. We live and we strive for what is good, and, when it is otherwise, that we can gather the hope to go on. Personal strength in those times is essential. For some, it’s the only resource to go forward. I am one of the fortunate. I have discovered that I do have personal strength — untapped for a time. Held in reserve, I believe, until it was right for it to be flung out like a banner in the wind.

I am ever thankful that I am blessed by your love and support. Please believe that I will strive to pass this gift of love along, not only to my children but to my family and my friends. The knowledge that we are here for each other — always here — will strengthen me to continue this legacy. And will stand as my tribute to you.”

Ladies and gentlemen, a round of applause for the late, great Valerie Elder.