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In memory of Daphne Nadine Smith
By Stephanie Stevens
Op-Ed Commentary
Dec. 14, 2019, 2 p.m.
Dear Sister Willow,
We just got off the phone. Just now.
You told me you are ready, that you think the spirits are telling you that it is time.
And my heart broke into a thousand pieces.
You also sounded so at peace. So… happy. Happy that you have had such a good life. Happy that you have been so well loved. Happy that you love us all so much. You said none of the past moments of anger matter anymore. You just feel so much love for us all.
You sound so at peace.
I had not cried until now. It was not real, until now.
I knew what I had been told, that there was nothing more they can do.
But it did not seem real.
I heard that peace and laughter and love in your voice. You told me when I was on the sunny beach one day to think of you in the sun. I told you I would collect seashells and sea glass and think of you, that you will be there with me. Costa Rica. You told me to go to Costa Rica one day.
And I will. I promise you I will.
Hearing you, your voice – and I have truly never heard it sound the way it just did – that made it real.
You are dying.
We talked about the cancer, talked about coffee.
We laughed at my dark, twisted humour. And we managed not to cry.
But now, after it has been made so real, the tears have finally come.
Don’t worry, Sister Willow.
We will be ok. I will be ok.
The sun just came out. The world is suddenly brighter as it reflects off the new snow. It is like the spirits are telling me they are ready to welcome you, when you are ready.
It is like they are telling me they will take good care of you. That you will be peaceful and happy.
I have to trust in that.
I love you. I have so much left to tell you.
We will have long conversations, Sister Willow. In the forest, by the river, on the beach.
And I will tell you everything.
All my love,
Little Willow.
My sister Daphne died 10 days after I wrote this. We were able to gather around her for her last week, to talk, laugh, cry and say goodbye. We took turns staying overnight with her in her Calgary hospital room, and I take comfort in knowing she was never alone in her final days.
In memory of Daphne Nadine Smith, Nov. 2, 1963 – Dec. 24, 2019
