My name is Catherine Porter. I'm a columnist at the Toronto Star. I got a call from my editor saying,

look at the obits today. It was Valentine's Day and their number 19 out of 56 was Sheila Gordon's

obituary and something about it stopped me. So we spent the day trying to track her,

love the ones down. It was a very shocking phone call, but the funny thing was I immediately felt

well of course if you are ever going to look for a random person to write about she's the one.

The expression I used at the time was how stupid perfect because you somehow stumbled across

a person that should be recognized. I met Sheila Gordon at her funeral. She was soap and water

beautiful, vital. I could feel her spirit tripping over her purse in the funeral hall and then laughing

from the floor. She was both alone and crowded by love. In another era she would have been considered

a spinster, no husband, no kids, but her home teamed with dogs, sisters, nieces, nephews,

and her life partner, a gay man who would pass summer nights reading books and bed beside her,

wearing matching reading glasses. I'm Heather Kalamore, Sheila's older sister. I'm Jessica Kalamore

and I'm Sheila's niece, the oldest of her nieces and nephews. My name is Andy Schultz and Sheila Gordon

and I were best friends. It all flowed through Sheila's stranger enough. I don't think we really

realized it while we had her. She was the interpreter. She made sure everybody understood each other's

feelings. She loved with a power that I can't even compare. It was pretty unbelievable.

I always thought I was lucky that she was my friend. You could put your heart on the table and you

know that she'd never step on it because she took great pride and honor that you gave that to her.

I think that's what drew people to her. She was just a magnet for people and some of them

really stuck and they're part of the family now. That happened everywhere we went. You'd have

somebody that you'd never met. Some teacher from Jersey or some young kid from the Caribbean sitting

at our dinner table. It was just her spirit. If there was somebody in a room that nobody was talking

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