Penelope (Penny) Anne Eastham

My mom passed away at the age of 75 at Laurel Place Hospice in Surrey surrounded by those who loved her. She was born in Vancouver to Arnold Robert and Wilma (Betty) Ellsabeth Eastham and raised with her two younger siblings David and Susan. She grew up on the west side of Vancouver where you could run to the corner store with 15 cents in your pocket and come home with a loaf of bread and a half-eaten box of cookies.

At 38 she became a single mother and raised me with true unconditional love. She taught me how to stand up for myself, to show kindness to all creatures, and that you’re never too old to learn anything. Her kind and generous spirit radiated from her; its light falling on anyone that came in her path (unless you cut her off in traffic). She was the kind of person who came to me and asked that I find her a pride flag she could wear on her purse so that strangers in need knew she was a safe person.

She gave me a love of fantasy and science fiction, of video games and books. She gifted me an imagination and provided endless resources from Star Trek, to Harry Potter, to The Legend of Zelda. She would say she wasn’t creative or imaginative, just crafty, but the treasure trove of handmade Christmas decorations and the small mountain of art supplies I’ve inherited would say otherwise. The fruits of her imagination will be cherished by many for years to come.

She was resilient, determined, and independent. Growing up there was no man to fix things or assemble the Ikea furniture, it was up to us to figure it out. I learned early on the difference between a Phillips and a Robertson screwdriver and how little force it took to break some of that MDF board when you don’t understand the instructions…I said we figured it out, not that it went smoothly.

She was funny, constantly trying to make people laugh and feel at ease. If we were turning a sharp corner, we would make screeching sounds as if we were robbers in our getaway car and the cops were after us. If we were at the grocery store, she would mime mowing me down with the cart. One time growing up we had this box of tictacs that neither of us wanted. Instead of throwing it out or giving it away we silently kept placing it in each others’ rooms, the hiding spots increasing in absurdity, and this went on for weeks until one of us broke.

She was my best friend, my safe place, and I will miss her every single day for the rest of my life.

Her legacy lives on in me (her daughter and grand-kitties Cleo and Fergus), her surrogate daughters (Tessa and Shevaughn), her closest friends (Vicki, Korene, and Debra), and her family (Susan, Ron, and their daughter Ally).

Endless thanks to the nurses at Royal Columbian Hospital and Laurel Place Hospice for their exceptional care in her last weeks. We gained a true appreciation for the work they do by witnessing it first-hand. A special thanks to Dr. Kayleigh Da who never stopped advocating for her or me.

I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, your baby I’ll be.

Kate