It was a weird feeling, to send a text to Wendy on July 5th, her birthday. I struggled with it for a while; wondering whether or not to send it all. It was hard to get the wording right, knowing it would be the last birthday she got to spend on earth.
I also had a nagging sense of imposter syndrome, having never met Wendy in person. Why would I send this text at all?
Perhaps I should go into a little more detail.
I was first introduced to the name of Wendy Roberts in 2019, when our working worlds collided. I, in my role with Make-A-Wish BC & Yukon, and she with her role with Children's Wish Foundation of Canada. Our two organizations merged in October of that year, and all of a sudden, we were colleagues. Wendy in Ontario and me in B.C. and before long Wendy and I were collaborating on things like press releases and text for donation web pages.
As it happens when organizations merge, there are a lot of people who move around. Somewhere in the shuffle, I moved off the BC team and onto the Make-A-Wish Canada national team. And there was Wendy, and she and I were teammates on a much closer scale.
But you guys, I don't know if you know, but this thing called the COVID-19 pandemic hit somewhere in the middle of all this, thus putting the kibosh on any plans to meet our newly formed teams in person. Little could we have known at the time, but COVID would thus ensure Wendy and I never got to meet in person, along with numerous other colleagues who would not have the pleasure.
At this point, you're likely thinking that she succumbed to COVID. Not so. I'm coming to that.
First, more about Wendy. Importantly, not meeting in person does not diminish the fact that this was a woman that you could really get to know. She was just one of those wonderfully open people, a book full of warmth, humour, insight, intelligence and charm. Our relationship, therefore, was online... but it was a great relationship.
I loved meeting with Wendy. And in our roles, we had daily reasons to do so. Whether working on press materials, gathering materials for staff meetings or hunkered down in the trenches of issues management work, you couldn't help but be glad to be in Wendy's presence. .
Work aside, there was always time for a chat. Hearing about what her husband, Andre was up to, keeping up to date on her twin girls Taylor and Alicia, or chatting about her dad (COVID kept her from visiting family in the Maritimes for too long, but she managed to travel back when restrictions eased). You could chat with Wendy with the ease of a friend... which she truly was. Weekend plans, TV shows, the weather, politics.
For the past several months, though, I've had no occasion to meet with Wendy. We've exchanged texts and photos through our thumbs on our cell phones, but Wendy has been off work as she had the biggest task of her life to deal with: a diagnosis of stage four pancreatic cancer. I don't know if you know much about pancreatic cancer--I'm not about to go into details--but it can be swift. And for Wendy, it was.
On July 19th, 2022 she passed away peacefully surrounded by her family. I am at loose ends this week, feeling a deep sense of loss for, remarkably, someone I never even got to give a hug to "in real life". But as I said, this did not diminish our ability to get to know one another, even to love someone. On her birthday, I told her so.
"I am glad you were born," I said. "Celebrating you today," I said, amongst a few other pleasantries. Some things you don't get another chance at, so you better say what you're wanting to say when you have time to say it.
And truly, I am glad she was born and that our life paths crossed when and how they did. I will not wallow in disappointment that we never met in person, but rather will let my heart be full of love for knowing the remarkable 'Wendy' at all. She was a gift in my life, to be sure.
In her final act of kindness, Wendy wanted to keep paying it forward. One of her daughters, you see, was a wish recipient a few years back. It was that event that eventually drew Wendy to the work that she was doing, and the reason I had to meet her. That's how the universe works, after all. It is Wendy's wish that this work of granting wishes keeps going. She requested that a fund in lieu of flowers be set up to collect donations for Make-A-Wish, so that another child facing critical illnesses may come to know the joy of a granted wish. If you feel so moved as to contribute to her noble goal, you can do so here.
Wendy and I would end off all of our calls be they collegial or casual in pretty much the exact same way.
"Okay, my friend," she would preface the conclusion, "Nice talking to you/have a good afternoon/weekend/we will chat again very soon," and always signed off with "take care, bye for now."
I can hear her voice now. I have missed it for months, but today, I really miss it. I will continue to miss it in days to come.
Okay, my friend. Take care. Bye for now (and all my love).
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Photo courtesy of Petra King Photography |
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