Sheila Rolfe (11 February 1940 – 17 June 2013)

I met Sheila in the summer of 1989, while she was driving for Barrie Transit. I’m not sure exactly how we became such fast friends, but I can’t remember a time since meeting her, that I didn’t consider her a dear friend, confidante and surrogate mum. Maybe it was the endless hours of talking as I rode around on the bus with her. Maybe we filled a void for each other. I don’t know if I’ll ever know why the Fates brought us together, but I’m so very grateful that they did.

I moved out of Barrie in ’90, returning to the area four years later. During that time, we kept in touch and, whenever I was back in town, which was every month or so, I would drop by the terminal and ride a few runs with her. I remember we had some conversations that lasted several months, and we would just pick back up where we left off as if no time had passed. This was back before email and cheap long distance, so our bus rides were our only way to keep in touch.

When I moved back in ’94, we became even closer. She was there for me through my separation with my first husband. She was there for me when I was pregnant with my daughter, K, and again when I left the abusive relationship I had with K’s father. She was there for me when I met my natural parents, and again when that went south. She was…well…just there.

In 2004, my husband and I started toying with the idea of moving to Vancouver Island. Sheila was retiring the following February, so we asked her if she would consider moving out west, with us. She didn’t agree immediately, but after a week-long visit to the Island in the spring of 2005, she was sold. By the end of 2005 we were all on the Island and a couple of years later we were all in the Cowichan Valley. We would have her over for family functions, and even my parents would invite her for Christmas. She was, part of the family.

She was also a very private person, and didn’t share many details of her personal life with anyone other than close friends. I consider myself lucky to be one of the few to really know her, and I feel sorry for those who were met by her gruff exterior and weren’t able to see the loving and caring person that she truly was.

Now don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t without faults, and sometimes would frustrate me to no end. There were things that she would do that would cause me to shake my head and think “what was she thinking?”. She would already know what was going through my head and answer “I don’t know what I was thinking”. Then we would laugh as I tried to find a way to fix whatever it was she had done.

Then there were times that we would talk on the phone for hours…about nothing. Or she would fill me in on the latest news about her friends…I swear I heard so much about some of them that I felt like I knew them personally.

I’m gonna miss that! Picking up the phone and just chatting about nothing. Having her know me well enough that she can tell how I’m feeling by the sound of my voice. Not many people are lucky enough to have that good a friend for almost a quarter of a century. I’m glad that I was, but there will forever be a void. One that Sheila filled, without doing anything except being there.

Over time, I know the sadness will be replaced by fond memories and the tears will turn to laughter, but that is small consolation. I should also be happy that her last day was a good day, and she was able to die, peacefully in her sleep…and I am. I just wish we had had more time…more memories.

I created this page as a way for friends to share their condolences, but also to share stories, and memories of Sheila. Although she wanted no fuss made, as far as a service, I think she deserves a way for people to pay their last respects to the great lady that she was. This is my way of providing that, while still trying to respect her wishes. And as her family motto says…Post nubila phoebus (After clouds, sunshine).

If you prefer to leave a personal message, I can be reached privately at the contact form below.