"Many people saw the excellent stage play which Jeremy Brett and Edward Hardwicke did called "The Secret of Sherlock Holmes." and many people queued up for autographs after the performance. During my vacation to London in March 1989, I was one of those many people. I little knew that it would lead to one of the most meaningful friendships of my life.

After speaking with him briefly in the autograph queue, we learned we both shared archery, a love of animals (especially dogs and horses), music and cooking in common. As my flight back to Los Angeles left the next day, I wrote Jeremy a proper thank you letter from my hotel and posted it to him before leaving. The start of our friendship may be due in part to Trevor, my pet wire fox terrier at the time. It was he who found the postal card which Jeremy had sent in reply to my letter, posted nearly two weeks earlier in London! It was half-buried in the dry gravel alley behind my apartment. As Jeremy’s play was still in London, I wrote back to him at once about the remarkable way in which I’d found his card.

Just over a week later, I received his very amused reply : "A most singular postal system indeed! I am indebted to the valiant Trevor; please thank him for me. As for this, let’s hope it reaches you DIRECT!" I wrote back, assuring him that his second communication had, indeed, safely reached my mailbox!

We continued writing each other for the next several months, both enjoying it very much. At length, I wrote to him, "You seem to be as interested in continuing this as I am; would you like to be friends?" It was a sign of just how relaxed he made me feel that I was able to ask him that after only a few months, especially as my usual manner was rather shy. It was in late July that I received a card he’d sent for my birthday (he’d remembered from earlier letters!). The card’s verse was : "Did I find you, or did you find me...or were we given to each other?" On the inside, he had written : "Shall we be friends? Of course! From a friend, J.B."

In all the time I knew him, Jeremy never told me about his illnesses. It wasn’t because there was nothing I could have done; he didn’t want to upset me. He chose that I know only his best side, without the pain and tears. That didn’t help, though, when I heard of his passing in 1995. I cried for three days, after which I gathered together everything he’d ever sent me (or so I thought) and burned the lot. The grief then was too fresh; I couldn’t bear having any reminder of him around. It was many years later that I was online and found the excellent site called Internationally Brettish. On its homepage was the poem which had been read at Jeremy’s memorial service :

"Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other we are still.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we have always laughed
At the little jokes that we enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
I am waiting for you, just around the corner.
All is well."

It was something I really needed to hear, to put things into perspective. Several months later, I found two things he’d sent me which had somehow escaped the fire : a heart charm on a gold chain (sent for Valentine’s Day) and the birthday card in which he’d accepted my offer of friendship. I think, in a way, he was reaching out to me and letting me know that when people truly care for one another, nothing changes. Friendship is forever."