My name is Joan Miller and I’ve known Sharon since 1989.

When I think of Sharon I think of orchids.

There is a Chinese poem that says “The most beautiful orchids grow on the bottom of the gorge; the orchids' fragrance fills the forest.”

Sharon could grow beautiful orchids – lovely, fragrant, wonderful orchids in all kinds of colours. When I first met Sharon she hadn’t started growing orchids, or at least I don’t think so. She was busy being a student and mother.

I was in the next lab to her at the University of Calgary where she did her PhD in science. Our labs were in the Heritage Medical Research Building and Sharon's PhD supervisor was Dr. Mark Adams. She did important research with osteoarthritis during her time as a student, graduating with her doctorate in 1997.

I have fond memories of sharing lunch time conversations with her and hearing about Devin when he was a litle boy. We had many stories to share about our children.

I also have memories of competing for the dark room with her. We had to develop x-ray type films and there was only one dark room for the entire floor of labs.

Sharon and I learned to plan around each other's experiments so we wouldn’t need the dark room at the same time.

Sharon was such a hard worker that she was often in on weekends and evenings. It was probably to avoid competing with me for the dark room!

Our colleague Linda Marchuk recalls a story about Sharon. Just before Sharon left the University of Calgary, her purse had been lost and possibly stolen.

A few years later Linda and several others were cleaning out lockers - including those with locks on them but no hint of who they belonged to. In one of these lockers they discovered Sharon's purse - completely untouched. They phoned her and when she came to collect it, she brought a large cake, to thank them for finding it and returning it to her. Linda said “That was how kind and thoughtful Sharon was - she never forgot any kindness that came her way.”

She always had time to help anyone who needed it and she was a good listener. Linda liked her a lot. We all did.

The next time Sharon appeared in my life was at the neighbourhood dental office. By then both she and her husband Alvin were dentists and had established a dental practise only a few blocks from our home. I was delighted to find her there and we greeted each other enthusiastically. She was so proud of the dental office she and Alvin had created and rightly so.

She was also proud of Alvin for all he had done. He had designed and built the dental office modules himself. They became our dentists.

That’s when I found out Sharon could grow beautiful orchids. There was always an orchid blooming in the dental office. Sharon would rotate the blooming orchids between their home and office and would show them to me every time I came in. It made getting my teeth cleaned a lot more pleasant!

Later Sharon and Alvin moved their dental practice to their very own 3-storey office building on 14th Street NW. This building had room to expand their practice and had living quarters above and other shops below. It is a beautiful dental office with wonderful staff and bright windows looking out towards the mountains. Sharon and Alvin have both worked so hard to make a business of which they could be proud. And there are always orchids in the dental office.

In the last year, Sharon and I attended qigong practices together. And afterwards we would visit...about our children, of course.

Sharon was so proud of her two sons, Devin and Dennis. She would tell me of their interests and studies and how they were doing.

And she would show me her beautiful orchids in bloom.

Only a few weeks ago she arranged for me to see a Qigong demonstration. She was not well and yet she took the time to do this for me, knowing that I would be interested. It was another example of her kindness and generosity.

I offer my sincere condolences to Sharon’s family and friends.

When I remember Sharon I think of orchids. I hope that whenever you see beautiful orchids in bloom you will remember the kind, generous woman that was my friend Sharon.

My mother once told me that, being a dentist, she regretted not becoming a teacher. In my experience however, she has never stopped teaching. When I was five, she taught me biology: photosynthesis, mitochondria, and ATP. It would be valuable knowledge... in tenth grade. When I was seven she taught me my times tables and to read, until I was a better reader than she was - except in Chinese. I've since forgotten the little Chinese I learned, and with calculators everywhere I am in danger of forgetting my multiplication as well.

More important than lessons in science or math, however, were the life lessons: honesty, diligence, caring, respect, truthfulness: and those she continued to teach her children even as she had less and less time for them. The most important lesson of all, she saved for last. This was a lesson in selflessness, to give more than I had ever given. It was a lesson in courage, to transcend fear on the path to self expression. It was a lesson in love, and finding in myself reserves of love I didn't even know I had. And finally, it was a lesson in letting go. This is the lesson I would like to share with you today.

One of life's most difficult challenges is to face the unknown. For Sharon to leave her birthplace and settle in an unfamiliar country was an incredible act of courage. She faced not only an unknown language and culture, but also uncertain prospects.

The lesson my mother taught me is that the only way through the unknown is to boldly stride into it. For her the unknown was Canada; for her children, it is the self. The realm of self-awareness is as terrifying as a distant land, and the rewards for travelling them as great. To find the courage to express myself I had to take this journey, beginning on the path of music and ending with self discovery. There were countless terrors along the way, but in the daring footsteps of my mother, how could I refuse the challenge?

It is often forgotten that teaching demands selflessness. It requires more understanding of the student than the material. It requires one to set aside one's personal schedule for another's progress. It is not easy.

All too often, I found it too easy to discard another's concerns because I was filled with my own obsessions. It was too easy to put off today for tomorrow for the sake of what I had to do now. But you cannot always put off, for the hourglass empties, and one day you find the things you were to do tomorrow are gone forever. In the wise words of a supervisor I had, life will be over and work won't be done.

My mother taught me the importance of being available, being receptive to others - being selfless. It is true that giving gives back twice over, for it keeps everything you do in touch with the people that matter the most.

The word love, in Chinese, “ai qing”, is something we rarely hear at home. Yet even without the word my mother somehow managed to teach us the meaning of love, and inspire us to reach out to those in need. She taught as she always did by example, reserving for each person she knew a piece of herself overflowing with care and worry. And it seemed that the more that was demanded of her, the more she redoubled her efforts. I only regret that we did not learn her lesson sooner, so that we might have eased some of her burden.

In her final lesson, my mother taught me to let go: of fear, of worry, of regret. There is no greater lesson to be taught, and yet I wish I could return it. I wish with all my heart I could exchange this lesson for a full refund: to bring back the one with whom I was going to share my moments of trial, reflection, of pride. The price of learning was too great.

Yet, it is not her wish that we forget this lesson, for it instructs us to continue onward. Our lives are as a journey, and as all journeys have a beginning, they have also an end. Though we rejoice for one and weep for the other, they are as inseparable as two halves of a whole. But let us not forget that in every end, there is also a beginning. For my mother lives on in our memories, and in the people she has taught us to become. In the words of a Chinese poet, the dying flower casts o'er the ground a renewed resplendence in spring. In her passing, my mother is the flower that casts its seeds to the winds and over the prairie grass, in hopes of landing on fertile ground. We are the earth from which a future meadow grows, and we each bear the seeds of her teaching within us.

As she passes by, for her, it is we who seem to pass by, and as she passes away, so we are the ones passing away from her. But the meaning - the essence of life - is in the meeting: the brief moment when we are joined in understanding.

Let us each carry a seed in our heart. Let us plant it in compassion and water it with joy, keep from it the poison of despair and bitter regret, and in time let it grow to be a tree of wisdom; let it be a tree of peace.

I wish to give my heartfelt thanks to the many hands, large and small, that provided desperately needed support and assistance in the past three weeks. You are too many to name or account for, but the outpouring of your compassion will be remembered as fondly as Sharon's own.