FRANCO AND SYLVIE
It was one of those cinematically inspired eyes-across-a-crowded-room meetings, in 1978, at an art gallery opening downtown.
He was in Vancouver on assignment for the European publication of which he was Bureau Chief in New York City, at the time. She was a creative entrepreneur, living back in her city after returning from working abroad for some years.
When Franco crossed the large and crowded room to acknowledge the synchronistic experience they had just had, the eye-locking, Sylvie was smitten. She invited him, first, to a restaurant dinner with her friends, and after, to a private party.
They spent the next days together as he continued to postpone his future assignments in San Francisco. They both knew then that theirs would be a lifelong connection.
Which it was – but not in a conventional way.
Forty-one years after their original encounter, Franco telephoned Sylvie from his deathbed to say goodbye and to remind her of that first meeting and of the great love between them – one that had spanned oceans, continents and much of a lifetime.
Not that Sylvie needed reminding.
After the initial meeting, they had seen each other several more times, in his home city and in other cities, when he was on assignment, and sometimes in between. He suggested marriage several times, but she declined. The intensity of the emotion between them frightened her. But they continued, for a while, to meet whenever their paths crossed during their international travels. They couldn’t not.
Eventually, they each created families and homes with other partners, in different cities, in different countries and on different continents. But they stayed in regular contact – initially by telegram, then through long-distance calling, and finally on WhatsApp.
They met each other’s children and partners, and they respected these choices. There was never any further discussion about getting or being together.
But the initial connection never wavered. It was as strong in the end as it was in the beginning.
That it happened at all is the story.
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