Colleen Jones was something wonderful to happen for anyone who knew her

It was a Thursday night in early July when Colleen Jones and I found ourselves tucked away in her living room on Newton Avenue in Halifax. 

The golden sunset was filtering through the blinds. The air was still. It was calm and peaceful. 

Colleen’s home is a shrine to curling, to her sons Luke and Zach, husband Scott and grandson, and on the shelves and end tables throughout the house you’ll find books about mastering how to live forever and get the most out of life. 

On the mantle above the fireplace there’s a framed quote:  Always believe something wonderful is about to happen.

Colleen was lying on the floor with a pillow tucked behind her head, a blanket draped over her, her legs pointed up the wall to stretch. Just a month earlier Colleen had received emergency hip replacement surgery; she had crutches but refused to use them, hellbent on building back her strength to not only walk normally again, but get back on ice. 

“Let’s continue our interview,” she said to me from across the room. 

Earlier that day I had traveled to the hospital with Colleen for what would be one of her last chemotherapy appointments. We started our conversation there at her insistence. 

Remembering the life of Canadian curling legend Colleen Jones

“You do have to surrender to the process,” she said. “In life, no matter what it is, you really don't have a lot of control. You can't guarantee you're going to live to tomorrow. You've only got today, so surrender to today, enjoy today, enjoy the lattes, enjoy everything you're doing.”

Colleen Jones was a tour de force. She believed deeply in the power of positive thought, manifestation and having a spiritual practice, whatever that looked like to you. 

It’s why, on the side of her reading glasses,