The best thing about friendships is that we do not need to talk everyday, but we know we can when we need to. This is what Patrice and his friendship means to me. The beauty of this friendship was that it blossomed even though we hardly ever saw each other.
We met at an event I spoke at so many years ago, perhaps one of the first ones I ever did. I only remember how nervous I was.
Patrice came to thank me at the end of the evening. I must confess I do not remember what we talked about – I just remember a sense of reassurance that someone did not think I was too full of nonsense. And then he was encouraging enough to read my blog and to send me an email about his thoughts on the event and my writing. Shortly after, he left Beijing to go back to Canada, and we have not yet seen each other in person since that event.
Yet, he is one of the few who really sees me.
If email were not invented yet, we would be pen pals. We wrote back and forth. Sometimes it would be a while before we heard from each other, but each time Patrice would share with me his thoughts, and I would open up with my challenges. We would bounce ideas off each other, and talk about a myriad of things in our lives, such as calligraphy and Beethoven. We shared with sincerity and care. I always appreciate his kindness, patience with me, empathy towards my sometimes crazy aspirations, and most of all, utmost support even when I was down in the dumps.
He saw me for who I was, flaws and all (oh yeh, even I have a few!), and he got what I was trying to do in the space of mental health.
More than a few words of thanks…