Dear Erin — Letters to My Sister

On the 26th of May, 2023, Erin Willett passed away from an unexpected heart attack at 45. She was my sister, and I miss her very much. I would like to introduce a series I will write about her to preserve her memory.

The first piece I want to share is a letter I wrote to Erin. The letter was her eulogy that I delivered at her funeral service two weeks after her passing.

Dear Erin,

Where have you been? It has been a few weeks now since we last spoke. If you remember, we spoke briefly on the phone at the airport on my way to Europe. You talked at length about how so much was finally going in the right direction for you. And I, of course, bragged about all the fantastic things I would be doing with Anthony on our holiday.

Well, other people might have thought I was bragging, and to be honest, I probably was, but not you, dear sister. You, as always, had a genuine interest in what was happening in my life because that is the type of person you are.

Do you know how some people will feign interest in what is going on in your life so they can get to the part of the conversation where they talk about themselves? That isn’t you. You always care, are always interested, and are always happy to talk about anything.

We wrapped up that conversation with me congratulating you on some big wins in your life and two promises… that I would keep you updated on my travels and that we would celebrate a few critical milestones of yours upon my return.

Later that day, I sent you a cheeky photo of Anthony and me enjoying champagne at the airport before we boarded our flight. Again, somewhat gloating, but who doesn’t do that when they are about to go on holiday?

You then wrote back something that has stuck with me. Do you remember what you said?

“A glass of wine is a good start. Love you guys, and I hope you know how proud of you I am and how happy I am for you,” — Followed by many love heart emojis.

You have always lifted me and others around you up like that, even when things in your own life were proving to be quite challenging. Because that is the bright light you are.

But that is alright, big sister; life gets busy sometimes, and we don’t always have time to respond to our siblings showing off their fancy dinner pics in Paris. So, I kept up my end of the bargain and sent you photos and updates of my adventure. But sadly, I have not heard much back from you.

Something is different about this extended period of no contact. It could be that last text message you sent me. It stuck with me. I felt compelled to take a screenshot and show it to Anthony. The message where you told me you were proud of me and loved me.

Either way, I find myself thinking about you almost non-stop lately. So I hope you don’t mind me writing this letter. I felt like writing down a bit about you and the fantastic human being that you are.

I think back on growing up with you as my big sister. A role you always took quite seriously and, in reflection, a role I do not envy you. As you know, you were the eldest out of you, Jayne and I. The eldest, what a tough gig that must have been. Some say the eldest often has the most challenging journey. Both you and our parents had to figure it all out from scratch, so by the time it was my turn, things were pretty straightforward. Thanks for being that pioneer for Jayne and me, so our path could be easier.

I don’t think I have ever admitted this to you before, but I learned a lot from observing that rocky path you took as the eldest. I looked up to you more than you might have thought.

You set the pace for us all, and I couldn’t wait to be older to indulge in some of your eldest sibling’s privileges. Like a slightly later bedtime, being allowed to walk to and from school on your own, and perhaps eventually getting control of the TV and VCR. But I got my own bedroom as the only boy, so I guess I had that.

On that last point about TV, I was always fascinated and formed ideas and likes or dislikes about popular culture, thanks to you and Jayne. I knew who all the teen heartthrobs were, from Luke Perry to Jason Priestly, any male cast member on Beverly Hills 90210. And at some point, Dieter Brummer from Home and Away. All three of us went through an odd Home and Away phase; some things are best left in the past.

But all jokes aside, did you know you helped me form my love of music and musicals? Do you remember how you would tape all the new music from the Top 40 countdown on the radio that you thought I should listen to? You made me lots of mix tapes that I would listen to in my room for hours while playing with my toys. You even recorded the songs Mum and Dad probably didn’t want me to listen to, which delved into adult subjects like sex and relationships. It was our little secret, but I loved it because you did not treat me like a kid. You made me feel like a grown-up teenager, just like you.

You even used to let me hang around with your friends, which I now know must have been endlessly annoying for you. But at the time, you didn’t make me feel unwelcome, and I just wanted to be cool like you and your girlfriends. You even let me be part of the fun. I remember you dressing me up and getting me to dance on the coffee table for you and your friends. Remember Disco David? No? Good, let’s keep it that way.

Whatever you liked, I wanted to like. Films, TV shows, music, you name it. Even when I started to form my passions in things like science fiction, you indulged me as I took control of the VCR to watch countless hours of Star Trek or Red Dwarf.

I don’t think I always repaid this kindness to you as we grew older. Do you remember what happened as you matured through high school? You had a bit of a knack for getting in trouble. Or, more accurately, you were just really good at getting caught, and I was the little turd of a brother who put way too much effort into trying to make sure you got caught whenever you were up to mischief.

I never seemed to get into the same trouble that you did. But trust me, I was up to just as much mischief and was better at not getting caught because I learned from your mistakes. Thanks for that, big sis; I love you.

I could write pages and pages about those years, but you were there; you know what happened. But needless to say, I saw so much for the first time through your experiences. I saw what falling in love looked like, and equally, I saw the devastation of a broken heart. And even though I saw you go through it first, I was still no better equipped to deal with either the first time those things happened to me. But something I have never told you is that when dealing with a broken heart myself, I always remember the look on your face the day you had yours broken for the first time and think to myself, “Wow, this is what she was feeling, I wish I had known more at that young age so I could have put my arms around her told it would get better in time.” — sorry I wasn’t old enough to know better.

Even as an adult, you continued to teach me so many lessons. A mother at such a young age, Thomas gave me a nephew I adored and the experience of a younger sibling that drove me up the wall. You were patient with me then, even though I was displaying anything but patience. But once again, that is just who you are, my beautiful big sister.

But motherhood agreed with you. The day Thomas was born, I remember sitting at Aunty Fay’s house with Dad as he said, “She is going to be a good Mum that one” — oh, how right he was.

I may have moved away and could not see your beautiful children grow in person. But you have always ensured I knew what was happening with them along the way and they knew who I was. I know you might have preferred to have me closer, but you once again have taught me to respect that each individual’s journey is their own, and our paths have always been quite different.

Thank you for always supporting me and making time for me, despite our differences. Like when you drove all the way to Canberra to surprise me for my first-ever choir concert. Or years later when you did the same thing for one of my choir concerts when I moved to Melbourne. Seeing you smiling in that audience is a vision I will never forget.

Life sure has continued to throw some challenges at you. But my gosh, what resilience you have shown. Another one of those sneaky lessons you have been teaching me without realising it. Whatever hardships have come your way, you always seem to dust yourself off and keep pushing forward. From this, I have learned that there is no sense in giving energy to things that have hurt us or derailed us in the past. Doing so doesn’t do anything other than keep us stuck in the past, and we should always be moving forward as you have done like you were so excited to tell me about when we last spoke just a few short weeks ago.

I often think about how your Christian faith has been such an integral part of how you have overcome so much adversity. You know I have a lot of conflicting feelings about God and Christianity. But did you know you have shown me what a faithful Christian is? You must have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You don’t see skin colour, race, gender or sexual identity. You just see human beings, and you love them equally. I have seen you open your heart and your home to everyone giving what little you have had so they can thrive.

What kindness you have. How trustworthy and open-minded you are. What vast amounts of love you are capable of. My big sister, I could only ever hope to be half the human being you are.

Did you know that there are things I have confided in you before anyone else? Did you know that there are things I have told you that no one else knows? I would put them in this letter, but you and I know those secrets are to be kept in our heads and hearts only.

I wish we could speak. As I write this letter, I want to know where you have gone. Have you just got carried away tending to your beautiful garden and succulent plants that you haven’t had time to respond to your little brother? Is everything ok?

As I write this letter, I begin to remember something. Reality is dawning on me, like waking from a terrible dream.

It was a few weeks into that European holiday I bragged about. I was in Italy, and it was only 5 am. I awoke to see so many missed calls from Mum and Jayne. A message from Mum mixed in saying something about you and doctors.

I stared at my phone in disbelief. Without even having returned their calls, I knew. I stared at my phone for what felt like an eternity. I didn’t want to return those phone calls because that would force me to face something that I already knew and I didn’t want to believe, that I still don’t believe,

That you were gone.

Would you believe I told myself it would never be real if I didn’t return those phone calls?

Because how can it be real? I was just talking to you not long ago. You were telling me how proud you were of me.

I need my big sister to be proud of me, I need to hear it. How will I know if you are not here to tell me?

You gave so much love to this world, your children, your entire family and your friends that it was impossible for any human being to provide any more.

So now it is our job to carry the bit of love and light that you gave each of us in our hearts. Because what you carried in your heart would typically take over 100 human beings to provide.

And herein lies the final thing I will learn from you, big sister. How fragile and precious life truly is. How every day is a gift. I will make sure we all carry on your shining example of how to love.

I will remind myself and everyone around me not to harbour bad feelings or resentment. But instead, look around at the people you love and care for, whether it be your family, friends, or partners and remember to tell them that you love them. Also, you are proud of them!

Because at any time, you can wake up and find out that they are gone.

Would someone normally finish this with a poem? I don’t know any.

A bible verse? That was more your speciality.

Instead, I want to leave you with some words from a song that anyone who knew you will resonate with. From a musical, no less.

I’ve heard it said

That people come into our lives

For a reason

Bringing something we must learn

And we are led

To those who help us most to grow

If we let them

And we help them in return

Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true

But I know I’m who I am today

Because I knew you

Like a comet pulled from orbit

As it passes, a sun

Like a stream that meets a boulder

Halfway through the wood

Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better?

But because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

Time to rest now, big sister. I want you to know that you did everything right, even when it might have felt wrong.

I want you to know how very proud I am of you.

Lots of Love, your little Brother, David.

Originally published at https://daveywrites.com.