On the 11th February 2010, Vida Adamoli, a founding editor of This Way Up, died unexpectedly from a long-standing heart condition.  We had been friends for twenty-five years and I, like so many others, loved and treasured her, writes Geraldine Royds.

Vida was passionate about life. She had enormous courage – hard-won – and a legendary compassion for others. Friends speak of her warmth, grace and humor and how one somehow felt more vibrant and alive just by being with her. She had a knack of transforming everyday things – beans on toast, a nice torso, the front row at the movies – into something special and she  had the rare ability to make people feel good about life and good about themselves. Vida managed to find something of value in every moment and in every encounter.

At Vida’s memorial, as more and more people crowded into the great hall, I looked around at the open faces of her friends and family and I realised that she was more than a respected writer, a besotted mother, a fine friend and a committed Buddhist. Vida was a truly successful human being whose big, profound, generous life, a life rich in the treasures of the heart, had touched us all.  We miss her.

 

 

 

 

Eulogy at Vida's memorial by Diane Southam , March 14, 2010

Over the twenty-three years of our precious friendship Vida and I would share books and poetry that we’d found particularly inspiring, and in a moment I’d like to share a poem by the late Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. It’s called Abeja Blanca – or White Bee.

But first I’d like to say why I chose this particular poem. Like Neruda, Vida was a writer and an incurable romantic with revolutionary leanings, who worked vivaciously to create a better world. Vida means ‘life’ in Spanish – and as everyone here knows, she was so full of it.

White bees are closely associated with the medieval Italian saint, Rita of Cascia, was a country so close to Vida’s heart. She lived there, wrote about it and loved it with a passion – as she loved her half-Italian sons Julian and Lucien.

St Rita intercedes on behalf of lost or impossible causes, and I couldn’t count the number of these – myself included – who were taken under Vida’s wing at one time or another and nurtured and encouraged with enthusiasm, compassion and love. We all swarmed around her. She was pure honey.

While she had many saintly qualities Vida was also a sensualist and enjoyed the good things in life. I remember her being at her happiest when sitting outside on a warm, sunny summer’s afternoon: talking, laughing, sipping red wine, nibbling Mozzarella and smoking cigarettes.

Vida buzzed. She buzzed with unstoppable enthusiasm about everything – everything from Fermat’s last theorem to the latest lip-gloss. Vida was truly a queen bee.

Abeja Blanca
White Bee, you buzz in my soul, drunk with honey,
And your flight winds in slow spirals of smoke
Ah silenciosa!
Here is the solitude from which you are absent ?
Let your deep eyes close, there the night flutters ?
Ah silenciosa! ?
White Bee, even when you are gone you buzz in my soul ?
You live again in time, slender and silent ?
Ah silenciosa! ?