Carol Joyce Matthews

It's very heartwarming to read the many tributes to Carol. It was a delight and an honour to know her. She was such an inspiration as well as support to our work in the world: my partner Sarah's artistry and graphic design and my writing. I reviewed two of Carol's memoirs and she treated me to lunch following those reviews. Our chats at those times and other meetings were always lively and enlightening. I have her books close by to take a dip into every once in awhile. Sending love and condolences to Alison, Charlotte and family. Carol's memory will always be a blessing, with gratitude.

I was lucky enough to meet Carol as part of a short-lived book club, formed by a group of friends, all of whom were also writers. I remember driving home from our first meeting thinking that I had just met a modern incarnation of the narrator in George Eliot’s Middlemarch. I had done my university honours thesis on George Eliot, specifically on the narrative technique in Middlemarch: Carol, like the narrator in that novel, was witty, wise, ironic, and sympathetic all at once. She was able to see people, communities, and ideas from multiple complex perspectives, able to laugh, sympathize, and discern strengths and failings in all kinds of philosophies and human undertakings, while remaining unfailingly clear-eyed and kind.
When, soon after that meeting, our book club morphed into a writing group, I remember being a bit trepidatious about submitting my first story to the “ladies” and most certainly to Carol. But I needn’t have felt misgivings. Her comments on all the work brought to the group were always generous, copious, thoughtful, and above all encouraging, and I always felt grateful to have her as a reader. After our meetings, Carol would often send a note with more ideas, suggestions, and encouragement. She helped us have faith in our work and kept us writing when we felt like giving up. We were fortunate to have seen and discussed early drafts of her books, such as Questions for Ariadne, Minerva’s Owl, and Incidental Music, works that explored, in beautiful prose, and with a lot of humour, the dark and the light of human relationships and experience. Her writing was multi-faceted, courageous, and complex, and I admired the way she could seamlessly interweave philosophy, poetry, mythology, and metaphor into her work, all while keeping her writer’s feet firmly planted on the ground. We laughed about her saying she would “stamp her feet” after meetings when we suggested, and sometimes argued about, small edits in the pieces, but the truth was that her writing tended to need very little editing, and yet still she valued the spirit of common purpose we found together in reading and discussing each other’s work. It was always a joy when Carol walked into our summer retreats on Gabriola, bearing fresh strawberries or Italian sugared almonds, and often a bottle of cold Prosecco with which to toast our long friendship.
Beyond LFC, I came to know Carol as a close friend, someone who understood the joy of conversation and the importance of friendship. A phone call or visit with Carol left you with a list of books to read (and often a gifted book in your handbag), articles or YouTubes to check out, places in town to buy a good baguette or cherries, with a sense of hopefulness despite the stark realities of climate change, of contemporary politics, or world events. One of her gifts was to be able to balance honesty with faith in humanity, especially in young people. In Middlemarch, at one point the narrator, attempting to encompass the way humans try to make sense of randomness, writes: Your pier-glass or extensive surface of polished steel made to be rubbed by a housemaid will be minutely and multitudinously scratched in all directions; but place now against it a lighted candle as a centre of illumination, and lo! the scratches will seem to arrange themselves in a fine series of concentric circles round that little sun.
Carol, always the champion of fairness, wouldn’t have liked the part about the housemaid, but I can’t help thinking of her as the lighted candle, the little sun.

I echo the "ladies" of our Ladies Fiction Club where Carol was generous in her sharing what she cared about, what provoked her political or environmental mind, what evoked love, marriage, family, children. She was also generous with commentary, supportive with an empathic eye to helping us all work on our writing.

The shady world of unethical, ignorant, power-hungry behaviour infuriated her and yet she never lost her hopeful and positive belief in humanity. Although, I do think she would have thought the world a better place if we were more like trees.

A number of times I ensured I joined Carol for breakfast or lunch when in Nanaimo or on my way to Gabriola. One famous time, she took me to see her beloved Vancouver Island University where she and Mike taught for many years. Much to my horror, she roared the wrong way down a one way lane without a care in the world. It made me laugh because it's how she led her fascinating life.

Protective and cherishing of all, but especially those she loved, and yet full of creative adventure and abandon and a disregard for rules that made little sense.

The world lost a truly great one with the passing of Carol Matthews.

Carol was so engaged in and passionate about the wellbeing of our community and our city, and in reading the many beautiful tributes on this page, it's wonderful to learn more about her widespread impact and positive influence. She always had a kind and encouraging word to share, along with an excellent book recommendation. When I worked at Literacy Central Vancouver Island's bookstore, Well Read Books, she was a regular visitor and I always appreciated our chats about literature and poetry, ranging from the magical and mystical to science and politics. When I entered local politics, she was extremely supportive and always keen to discuss the latest developments whenever we would frequently run into each other at local events. I will miss her smile and the way she saw the world and shared that with the rest of us. I will continue to be inspired by the way she deeply believed in the power of community and the importance of appreciating the beauty around us. I'm sharing a photo of a spiral I drew on a beach on Gabriola Island, which she commented on when I posted it on Instagram, saying: "temporary labyrinths are special. That was a seriously beautiful one." In a way, I think her comment speaks to her time on Earth as well.

Dear Carol,
Mischievous, playful, generous, larger-than-life friend. I thank you for everything you shared and have given me. So grateful to have had your friendship.

Like Jean Crowder I have known Carol so long I can't remember when or how I met her but fair to say I knew of her first because she was so much a part of the leadership in our City. Because of Carol and people like her this City is a much better place than it was fifty years ago. Her generation of women beat the path for those who followed facing challenges that would shock many of those who benefitted from her courage and work. Yes she was kind but she didn't suffer fools gladly. She was one strong feminist and her and Mike were examples to all of us that marriages and life long relationships of two good people can thrive notwithstanding all the rigours of life be it career or parenting or being great citizens in the truest and best sense of that word. They were a remarkable couple but we all know that don't we. Forgive the cliche but a special chapter has been closed. Please accept my sincere condolences and take comfort in knowing how proud she was of her family and how much she loved you.

My dear Alison,

I am heartbroken to hear of your mother’s passing. What an extraordinary human being she was. Her presence was unmistakable; it emanated from her. She embodied goodness and kindness in their truest forms, a true Siem, as my people would say. She often reminded me of my grandmother Ellen: rare, grounded, and luminous in a quiet but powerful way.

Every time I had the privilege of spending time with her, no matter how brief, I left feeling lifted and inspired. That was her gift. Her leadership in our community and region is difficult to put into words. She was a constant force of nature, shaping people and places with justice, care, and beauty. She shaped us all in ways we may never fully measure.

What a gift it was to have her among us.

Please know that I hold you, your daughter, and your entire family close in my heart, and I extend my deepest condolences and love to all who were fortunate enough to know her. She will continue to be a North Star for you and for so many of us. I will share this sad news with my sister Tracey and our family. And I will always strive to raise my children to be even a fraction of the person your mother was.

With love,
Doug

I know Carol would not want me to cry but it keeps coming over me in waves. It feels like losing my daughter all over again and my grief overwhelms me.
Carol changed my life. She convinced me many times over my 25-year career with Malaspina that I could put my doubts away and be the woman she saw before her. Strong, brave, confident and capable. And when it seemed too hard, “just fake it” was her advice. Thank you, Carol.
Our friendship evolved over time and through debate, argument and agreement, we forged a relationship that made me a better person. When I was trying to cope with life, she was always there with a gentle “time to move on”. I will always know that Carol was on this earth to make the world a better place and it worked.

STAR-GAZER
—P.K. Page

The very stars are justified.
The galaxy
italicized.

I have proofread
and proofread
the beautiful script.

There are no
errors.
—————-

Carol admired P.K. Page and was her friend, and this poem points to the ways that we find meaning in the world around us—especially in the natural world. In one way, Carol was a sage, in quiet contemplation while wandering the path of a labyrinth with her hands knotted behind her back. She was not shy about expressing care. And she was also a firecracker who lit little fires under all of us. How many thousands of things would NOT have happened but for Carol’s tender shoves? I imagine that the phrase I heard from her most often was, “You should…” and more often than not, I did.

It is no surprise there is such an outpouring of love here for Carol who deserved every once. She cared for everything that was good in the world, even the smallest moment or gesture. And even in her moments of frustration over what she didn’t like to see happening, she always came around to how grateful and “privileged” she felt for everything she had. As others have already said, I will miss our conversations. I recently finished a book by Ali Smith in which she employs much word play—something Carol and Mike did with such flair and abandon. Sadly, I won’t be able to pass this book on to her. I really don’t have any words to express my feelings of loss. She was the dearest friend to so many of us.

Alison and Charlotte, I can’t imagine how much you will miss her. You have given her a great gift by being with her as moved into the next realm. She loved the two of you so very much.

I took this picture of my balcony shortly after Carol departed because it felt to me a miniature reflection of the light and the stars where Carol was heading. Dear Carol, I love you, and I will miss you very much.

Carol became fairy godmother to my children and me when she and Mike cared for our shared dog Victor the year my family was away in India, and then continued sharing him for many years after, strengthening a friendship that lasted well beyond Victor's, and then Mike's, passing. Carol and I wrote emails for decades, turning a few into a book called Dog Days. We also exchanged books regularly. Her mind was always sharp, and we had many debates on many topics. She made me look at new perspectives, and her stories always intrigued me. Most recently we were discussing political visions, and she ended by saying, "I'll think more about it, and get back to you." I had a further thought to share with her....

Hard to fathom that the conversation will not carry on. Or perhaps it will, but just in another realm. Her presence continues to enlighten our whole community, and beyond.

I have known Carol for a long time but have been lucky to be a close friend with her the last couple of years. She was my mentor, fellow creative and pursuer of all things kind, thoughtful and beautiful. I will miss our coffee chats at the iconic Alice’s restaurant - she was generous and genuine - she took such an interest in what I was doing creatively. She challenged me, shared her wisdom and humour and she will always stay with me. I know she was a good friend and confidant to so many. Recently we did a chapbook collaboration - she, the wordsmith and I the artist - titled the “Ark”. I loved creating this with her and I know she enjoyed it too. The chapbook is about so many things - it is metaphor, cautionary, humorous and hopeful - but I think ultimately Carol is calling for a kinder, more imaginative and more connected world. My favourite excerpt from the book is when Ms. Noah asks;
“What possibilities are down there, beneath them, down in the deep? There are currents, eddies. Tides. What might they bring with them? What might they take away? She hears deep measureless chords sounding from the depths, a kind of music that offers hope. She imagines flowers blooming from the bottom of the sea.”
Thanks for this Carol, thanks for helping me see - I miss you, and as Alison and Charlotte have shared, you have moved into the drift of stars...into the mystery. I will look for you in the stars and keep talking to you in the studio.

I’ve known Carol, Mike, and Alison since I was a kid, and I have always taken their presence in the world and in my life for granted. I disappeared into several years of teenagery self-absorption, and then thoroughly enjoyed an adult connection with Mike as one of his students. Recently I’ve enjoyed a reconnection with Carol, doing some copy editing for her and meeting for lunches and coffees. Her friendship has been a gift to me and her encouragement will continue to guide me.
On the day Carol passed, I lit a candle and sat quietly, eyes closed, grieved, grateful, and wishing her godspeed to Mike. My thoughts were interrupted by a noise beside me, and I opened my eyes to the alarming sight of my candle in full blaze! I burst out laughing, took photo and video evidence, and said, “She did burn brighter than most.”
Further investigation revealed that the pretty tealight I’d lit was in fact fire starter.
I imagine us laughing as I tell her about it, and I know she would have a brilliant thought that would tie up the story in a clever way. For now, I will simply say thanks for the laugh, Carol. I love you.

Alison and Charlotte
I met Carol the day I moved to Protection Island, over 30 years ago. She introduced herself to me on the road and warmly welcomed me to the community. She and Mike lived a few doors down from us. My husband Kim and I came to know Carol and Mike well. We shared many meals and conversations about writing, art, and travel. I have fond memories of summer swims, bobbing in the bay in front of their house, chatting about this and that. More than once over the years, I turned to her for advice. She was, for more than just me, the person you could count on for wise words during a crisis.
Carol always encouraged me as an artist and writer. Over the years we read each others manuscripts. She also came to know our two children, Lindsay and Sophie, and developed friendships with both of them. She always took the time to ask them about themselves. She gave my son (who became a dedicated player) his first piano lessons. We felt Mike's loss and were saddened for her as she faced her last years without him. She carried on, magnificently, despite her grief. She had the habit and gift of "paying attention" in life and was always passionate about the state of the world and engaged with hope for change. She tended her treasured circle of family and friends. She took great pride and pleasure especially in her grand daughter Charlotte. And she transformed her grief into a beautiful book Minerva's Owl. I am grateful to have known her. I will think of her often as I navigate my own aging and aspire to face the years to come with the example she set.
Sending love to you both and to the rest of the family

I have been trying to remember when Carol’s and my path first crossed. It seems like we have known each other for a very long time- it may have been back in the days when VIU was still Malaspina University College or perhaps at Bethlehem Retreat Centre or at some community event. Carol had a presence in so many aspects of our shared community. Her thoughtful speech, insight, wit, compassion and caring are so much apart of my memories of her. I moved away from Vancouver Island a few years ago, but on my annual trek back we would meet for lunch and a catch up. We talked politics, the state of the world, the fragility of our environment and of course our families. My trips back won’t be the same without our meet ups. I will miss her and all of our shared connections.
Jean Crowder

Dear Carol, so sudden and sad that we will no more look into your wise eyes and share wonderful conversations and lunches at The Sylvia. I don't know if it'll work out but I know you've missed Mike deeply and maybe now you can kibbitz and laugh with him again. Thanks so much for many years of friendship and sharing your drawings, thoughts and words.

For Carol

Go, litel word, go
litel bit back and listen
inner to the maker
pick up the thread’s
echo go counter go
in the morning hold
on to the sounds
of itself this is
waking walking.

Go, litel word, go
pick up a stitch
a stick and a gap go
hand over hand always
some rest and waiting
in the evening let go
of the noise between
itself all ways here
to be read.

Carol had a knack for creating welcoming, comfortable spaces. Jolly Christmases in the house on Millstone Avenue, sparkly laughing summer afternoons on the Protection Island deck, cozy dinners at the townhouse on Bradley Street… each setting was an anchor for a different stage of my life. That knack extended equally to intellectual and emotional spaces: her brilliance and boundless curiosity invited exploration of every idea, while her wisdom and thoughtful compassion made her the best of confidantes.

She also brought comfort in its original sense of strengthening, of bolstering resolve. She inspired and advised, encouraged and prodded, envisioned and celebrated successes. In recent years we often talked about how to stay hopeful in dark times, and how to sustain the energy for purpose-driven work (whether environmental conservation or social justice, climate resilience or Crown-Indigenous reconciliation, neighbourhood shelters or world peace) in the face of what could feel like insurmountable-and-still-growing barriers. For Carol, it always came back to connection: between values and action, between self and community, between what you believe in and what you love and what you do each day. She would quote Sol LeWitt: “Just DO!!!” and Longfellow’s “Psalm of Life:” the point is to "act, that each to-morrow/Find us farther than to-day."

In one of our very last conversations she came back to this. “There is still a lot of work to do,” she said. “Work and love are the same thing.” And from her hospital bed she once again quoted Longfellow:

Let us, then, be up and doing
with a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing
learn to labour and to wait.

It’s hard to imagine a life that doesn’t include talking with Carol. And then I look ahead to 2026 and I see that, thanks to a conversation we had months ago, I had already written the words “up and doing” in my calendar. I hear them in Carol’s voice, and I know she is still creating welcoming spaces of all kinds for us all to work and love and laugh and live in, and I am comforted.

My love to all who love Carol,
and most especially to Alison and Charlotte,
from Carol’s devoted and admiring niece Darcy

When I think of Carol, I think of how intelligent and well-read she was. How prolific a writer she was. How she was active in many communities, locally and nationally. How she saw talents that perhaps people did not know they had and nurtured them.
As Dean of Health & Human Services for Malaspina College, she encouraged me to be a part of the development and implementation of a "new" First Nations Child & Youth Care diploma program in BC. This was the first of many courses and First Nations (Indigenous) programs at what is now Vancouver Island University. Her confidence in me changed my life for the better. And the lives of the many students who completed the program and returned to their community as Child & Youth Care Workers. These Child & Youth Care workers helped shape Child Protection in First Nation communities, locally, provincially and nationally. Quite the ripple effect.
In our retirement years, we saw each other periodically. Carol often would send information about a book reading or suggest a book to read or an event to attend. She was active every day. She lived a full life, giving her all.
The following quote reminds me of Carol: “Fight for the things that you care about. But do it in a way that will lead others to join you.” Ruth Bader Ginsburg, March 15, 2023.
I raise my hands to you Carol, till we meet again.

Carol, a wise and dear friend of many years, started writing fiction around 1998, the same time as I and a few other women were interested in exploring stories in our own writing, and so we formed a group to share our work and learn from each other. We named ourselves (sort of ironically and sort of not) The Ladies Fiction Club or LFC and began by meeting on the last Friday of every month. Along with Mike, Carol came down to Victoria and stayed overnight. During these “club meetings” we ate and drank and talked till late about character and plot and whatever else people talk about when discussing fiction.
I am not sure what Carol got out of those “meetings”, if her fiction benefitted from them, but she valued them and us enough to keep driving down the highway once a month. After Mike’s death Carol drove down less often for our “meetings” though she always gave thoughtful and perceptive feedback on others’ work. In more recent years Carol did not drive down to Victoria at all and sadly no longer stayed overnight. Again, she was happy to give feedback.
There are many photos of Carol at LFC summer retreats on Gabriola Island. I think of one in which she is sitting on a deck gesticulating, making a point. In another she is standing with others on a bridge. In another: walking up a hill, talking and laughing. Along with Mike, she came down to Victoria every December for a Christmas fête, bringing chocolates and wine and cheese and other delicious items. One year she couldn’t attend because of the flu, so we sang to her over the phone, a familiar tune with the words rewritten. This December as we celebrated another turn around the sun, she was not with us in person or online. All we could do was toast her with drinks and light candles in memory of her. I think I can speak on behalf of all the “ladies”: Carol has left a gaping hole in our 27-year-old “club”.

I knew Carol first through her work as a book reviewer, and then I came to know her writing directly when I read her book Minerva's Owl, which she wrote following the death of her husband, Mike. I was so struck by the way that she shared their love story, and the honesty through which she described her grief. I treasured our many correspondences and conversations over the last several years.

When it came time this past year to prepare a new edition of Minerva's Owl, Carol wrote a new epilogue, looking at grief from a vantage point of thirteen years following Mike's death. "I'm framing our relationship in a new way," she wrote. "I can frame our portrait and our love as a work of art. I can stand back from it now, and enjoy it."

I'm also rereading now Carol's words in her epilogue: "Accepting your death has made it easier for me to face my own, which doesn't feel far away. I think about that behemoth star becoming a supernova and then disappearing into the universe. It doesn't seem frightening."

Carol also chose a poem from P.K. Page to accompany her epilogue:

Though lovers be lost, love shall not.
Love shall not. O love shall not.
Engrave it in stone. Carve it in rock.
This is the sub-text of all art,
the wind in the wings of the Paraclete.
With the Lord of the Dance we shall form a ring
and there in love's pavilion
hand in hand we shall say Amen
and we shall dance and we shall sing
with Love, with Love for companion.

And death shall have no dominion.

__

Farewell, Carol -- thank you for your words, and your kindness, and for sharing your life and your story of great love. We will miss you, and you have made a difference in the lives of so many people, countless. From all of us here at Freehand, we're sending our condolences to Alison and Charlotte and all who loved Carol.

It is with much sadness and love that I write memories of Carol. I often think she is still here, just around the corner. Waiting for one of us to text or call for a coffee, lunch or chat. Often at the last minute. We liked to be spontaneous. We called each other low maintenance friends (LMF). No 'shoulds'. She was the best LMF anyone could have!
I first met Carol in 1981 when I started to work at Nanaimo Family Life Association and she was the ED. Over the years, I followed Carol eventually to Vancouver Island University (Malaspina UC) where she was the Dean of Health and Human Services. She had strong ideas about how things should be when working with people, as I did. We argued and as time passed, these became debates. Funnily, we believed many similar things.
During the last months, as her mobility was challenged and she gave up driving we spent more time together. Being fiercely independent and not wanting to be a burden, she talked of problem solving how she could continue her independence by using home deliveries and Ubers. Carol came to accept offers from others. Our errand runs to get groceries, have coffee or to drive around our neighbourhood to look at Christmas lights gave me an opportunity to spend more time with her. She thanked me by taking the two of us for pedicures, to dinner, by passing on thoughtful gifts from her numerous collection of things. There was no need but I accepted these as important gestures of her friendship. We talked about our pasts and what things contributed to our worries, independence and care toward others.
Carol was sometimes hard on herself. Always striving - believing she could do more, be more, contribute more. She inspired me to do more, be more, think more while at the same time seeing and accepting me as I was. We spoke of the importance of self compassion. I saw her lift others up in the same way.
I miss her. I miss our conversations, debates, being on the same page about politics and I miss her wisdom, generosity of heart and her love. Rest in peace my spontaneous LMF. With so much love Catharine

I met Carol in Nanaimo in 1974 and was somehow invited to a gathering at her and Mike’s house on Millstone Avenue. A noisy party was going on in the living room while Carol and I were talking about music. “Come into my bedroom,” she said in a sultry tone accompanied by her best come-hither look. “Yikes!” I thought as I followed her. She closed the door.

It turned out their stereo was in the bedroom. “Listen to this,” Carol said as she put on an album. We sat on the bed and soon tears of joy were rolling down both our faces as she introduced me to Pachebel’s Canon in D Major.

So now, the Canon plays again and memories of Carol abound.

Dear Alison and Charlotte.
My name is Sidsel Mundal and I live in Oslo, Norway. We haven’t met, but I know you a little from Carol’s letters.
Carol had a great capacity for frienship. It reached across the Canadian continent, across the Atlantic and the Norse Sea, across southern Norway to Oslo.
I’ve been happy to be one of her numerous friends, even if ours was a friendship that didn’ t last very long.
In June 2022 Mark Kiemele introduced us, and we spent one hour together in her sitting room drinking tea. We instantly connected, and started a correspondance shortly after my return to Norway.

The three of us have been pen pals since then, sharing reflections, small stories and taken part in each others daily lives; a very rewarding and cordial precence. Carol sent me her books and encouraged my own writings. She was tremendously inspiring, and I already miss her open mind, her wisdom, her drawings and love.
I was lucky to share her friendship and will keep her letters.

Finding myself speaking of Carol often. I do not remember a time when Carol wasn't in my life, encouraging me to get on with things or reciting poetry or directing me to a book. Our conversations would range all over the place and nothing seemed too much or a taboo subject. We would weave our way from the mundane issues of the grunge accumulating at the bottom of the dishwasher through all our mutual acquaintances and into how the mystery holds it all together.
I needed a champion like Carol to encourage me to try new areas of interest and I so appreciated that she got me to clarify how I wished to feel as I made plans for my future. Carol helped me flush out my little library on Death, with several volumes of poetry, of course. She was a beloved guide and mentor for me and so many.
I know that I will continue to consult and talk to Carol as a blessed friend. Gratefully, she leaves a body of written work which will continue to teach and inspire all of us who are lucky enough to find her writings.
When Carol told me what course to take in life, even if I didn't want to follow her advice, I knew it was absolutely sound. I'm going to miss having Carol to bounce things off in this space and time. The last story she told me was one of me claiming her as, "My Carol". I am so glad that she told me that one last story and I am so glad I fully claimed her. Her connections were so varied and diverse that I am sure that many, many people felt claimed by Carol because she had a rare gift of making people feel essential. I know that Carol was so happy and content that Alison and Charlotte were with her in her final days as she went into the light. I hope both your hearts are resting easy at this time.

May we all continue to cherish the memories and love we have for Carol and may Mike and all her Ancestors receive her and her light, as she comes home to them, carried well by our grief as an offering of our love.

The world – and I – am better for Carol’s presence. Courage, conversation, creativity and generous support only begin to indicate Carol’s contribution to our friendship. I will miss her immensely. Carol’s books were messages from the frontlines of explorations of what it is to be alive in this time and place and to find myth, symbol and nature as strengthening truths. Music, art, the life of a rebel, the luck of the love of a good man, and the gifts of other good friends – Rachel, Connie, PK - to name a few – as well as love of poetry - were things we shared. Deep thought, deep emotion, clear-sighted and brave: how fortunate I feel to have known her.
Condolences, Alison and Charlotte, from me and from ‘my’ Michael who loved her too.

Carol had such a wonderful mind, and heart; was such a very special friend who was always so present, even though we lived seventy miles apart and our meetings were much too infrequent. I should say ‘has’ because I feel she is very much with us. Every time we met for lunch or some kind of event or gathering, it was as if only a day or two had passed. She was that rare kind of friend. Marilyn and I will miss her.

What a loss. Carol is such a giant presence that it's difficult to accept she's no longer here. I met Carol in the eighties as a childhood friend of Alison’s and she became a beloved friend of mine in her own right. For decades and during my most formative years, I knew “Carol’s Gaze” – an affectionate, compassionate, challenging scrutiny that always made me want to be a better person (I'm sure many of you reading Carol's tribute wall have experienced that gaze as well!) I never failed to be awestruck by the power and brilliance of her brain, relentlessly working and churning, analyzing and synthesizing. She was a compassionate friend, a pursuer of justice, an uncompromising thinker, a wizard of words. She once told me that love and work are the two pillars of a good life, and she excelled at both. In Mike she had a true love and a perfect foil, and she grieved him deeply to the end; Alison and Charlotte were the lights of her life and her hopes for the future. Carol nurtured her extended family and vast network of friends, and she really saw and appreciated the essence of each person in her orbit. She saw the whole person, always. I will be eternally grateful to Carol for her generosity, wisdom, guidance, love and support over so many years. And I will miss her immensely. Alison and Charlotte, all my love and sympathies to you as you navigate your loss.

Carol hired me in 1969 to work with her at Forward House, a group home in Montreal for women with mental health issues. I couldn't have asked for a better mentor. Her deep insights into human nature and her breadth of knowledge and experience, as well as her gentle sense of humour were a gift for someone with only an arts degree. She opened up a new world to me and led to a career with the Elizabeth Fry Society of Ottawa. Years later it was always a pleasure for my husband Keith and me to get together with Carol and Mike whenever we visited family on the West Coast.

My connection with Carol was as the friend of a friend, but I will never forget how she made everyone feel they were important to her. She and I shared a love of labrynths, and had many far ranging conversations about them. I don't know whether our mutual friend, Ross Fraser, will be able to contribute to this Memory Wall, but I know that if he could he would celebrate a very special friendship. You will be very missed, Carol!

Carol was truly an inspiration to so many. Such a wonderful writer, she was also so kind and generous. She helped us raise funds to purchase forest lands at Wildwood on Vancouver Island. She was an inspiring advocate for community project. She was well loved here on Protection Island, and she loved this community back. We will all miss her but when we look up to the stars, we know she will be there for us. with love and condolences to her beautiful family.
Nancy and Bob Turner

We first met Carol through her association with Bethlehem Centre and our late father, Bill Godden.
When our Dad started constructing finger labyrinths for meditation and reflection, Carol became a dedicated supporter and advocate of his work and was instrumental in developing the Godden Finger Labyrinth Museum at the Centre.
Their friendship continued over the years until Dad passed away in 2016. My sister Maureen, my husband Allan and I were so fortunate to have known Carol. We saw Carol on occasion when we made the trip from Coquitlam to Vancouver Island. Her written and spoken words never failed to provide us with inspiration, encouragement, love and always a touch of humour. She was a force to be reckoned with.
We and so many others shall miss her presence in this world.
Michelle and Allan Lynde and Maureen Godden

Carol was absolutely wonderful. She and Mike were my neighbours on Protection island, where I grew up.

I loved going to visit with Carol. I considered her one of my very good friends (I was 13 she was 53)! She never made me feel like I was intruding or unwelcome (as adults often did). She made tea and served a treat, and made me feel so important and so special. She really listened to me and offered thoughtful sage advice on all things. She encouraged my creativity and showed me the value of it.

Her and Mike were a cool pair. When my brother and I would build rock and driftwood “art” on our little shred beach, they would be out there in a flash to compliment our creations and sometimes even snap a few pictures of our work!

Like Charlotte said, she made you feel seen.

When I was pregnant with my firstborn, she gave me a wooden labyrinth trace my finger along as I waited to meet my daughter. The labyrinth remains a most treasured item that many guests admire, in my living room.

I suspect that one of the reasons I’m “good with kids” is because I took a page from a Carol’s book… I treat them with the same respect and interest as I do with adults.

Her support meant so much to me. She really did influence the person I am now.

I love you, Carol. Thanks for everything.

Thank you so much Alison for all you are doing to honour Carol and all of us who have been so touched by our connection with her.

I can imagine you and Charlotte will always feel her presence, as she most certainly ascended to a Master Guardian Angel for you both.

She remains firmly with me in the two lovely books I was honoured to publish. We had a good time working on those together. (and with Yvonne).

I will always feel supported by her incredible encouragement of my mandala work, always impressing upon me how truly important it is. How she was always finding me something to paint ;-)

Truly a blessing in my life.

With love and gratitude,
~sarah

Carol was a woman of integrity and wisdom, highly respected by the Protection Island community. Her kind and generous nature touched the lives of many.

Dear Alison and Charlotte. I first want to send both of you my most sincere condolences with the passing of your most precious mother.
She was one of a kind who had what I call a very strong moral compass.
I witnessed her in action at Malaspina College and Malaspina University-College during some of our best and most challenging years and she never let the rest of us down.
She was a dedicated Dean of Health and Human Services devoted to her students, faculty and staff and always left enough energy and caring to serve on various community boards and contribute to other community events and priorities.
Her community connections were endless and important.

Carol's knowledge, wisdom, constructive criticisms, presentations and writings thru letters, books and endless spot on blogs were so valuable to so many of us as we lived our own lives and learned new approaches to making our world a better place.

She helped us all be better citizens and to be more in tune with saving the best parts of our environment..

She was never afraid to speak out while still maintaining a sharp and clever sense of humour.

I know that all of Carol's values and best talents will live on through the two of you and I thank you for keeping all of Carol's old friends and family up to date with the very unfortunate turn of events these last two weeks. I know that she has left her mark and is now at peace. Most sincerely, Rich Johnston

So many wonderful memories of being with Carol and Mike. We remember rowing over to their lovely place and having lots of time to sit and talk and laugh. Also helping with the garden and the house which we loved to do. I had the honour to work with Carol for a many years and it was a great experience and she taught me a lot! I don’t think I have ever known anyone who was as smart, creative and intelligent. Carol was a dear friend and she will always be with us.

Some of my most enduring memories of Nana begin on Protection Island, where I woke up to the sound of the tide crashing against the shore. Nonno prepared delicious breakfasts and took me on long walks with their dog, Victor, while Nana read the newspaper over coffee and asked us questions about the articles.

I also feel connected to her through my childhood visits to the Sylvia Hotel in Vancouver, BC, especially at Christmas, where Carol and Mike had their first date and where Victor was also allowed to stay. Spending time in that hotel from another era helped me step into a part of our family story.

She sent me links to hopeful climate news and stories about small acts of resilience. She believed that small changes matter, and she wrote to local leaders because she trusted that a single letter could shift the conversation. She contributed to a sense of community among her neighbours with that same intention. She brought people together, encouraged them, and helped them see what might be possible.

She kept writing and sketching, and she shared her ideas with a generosity that shaped everyone around her. She believed that even small efforts carried real weight.

I often think about the tiny gestures that revealed her care. She always saved Reese’s peanut butter cups for me because I once mentioned that I liked them. She made me, and so many others, feel seen.

I will always do my best to keep her lessons with me, notice the small messages she leaves for me, and act even when the action feels small. I will carry forward her curiosity, her kindness, and her belief in what is possible.