Four years ago today I received an unforgettable call from my very distraught mother. I was standing in my living room. John was standing in the kitchen. He saw my face change as my mother told me the horrible news. He knew what she had to say. Traci was dead.
Traci was my older sister. I would say bigger sister but she wasn’t. She called me her big little sis because I was several inches taller than her. Not because I am tall but because she was quite short. She was three years older than me.
That infectious smile lasted throughout her short life. She was free spirited and kind hearted. She was stubborn. Boy, was she stubborn. But when she loved, she did so immensely.
New Year’s Eve 2013 was the last time we spoke. She lived in Calgary, Alberta and I live in North Carolina. A two hour time difference and over 2400 miles separated us. We didn’t talk every day but at least once a week. Often forgetting the time difference she would call late at night just to talk. The first week of January 2014 goes by and neither my parents nor I had heard from her. That wasn’t in itself unusual but when we tried to call her, she would always call us back. Thursday January 9th, 2014 we still hadn’t heard anything. She wasn’t answering her phone. She wasn’t on Facebook. She seemed to have disappeared. We made contact with a couple of her friends in Calgary and eventually were able to reach her neighbour. She said she hadn’t seen her either, which was completely out of character. By this time it was Sunday. Her neighbour was able to contact her landlord who would come out Monday to see if Traci’s cats were still home. Traci wouldn’t go anywhere if her kitties were not being cared for and her neighbour hadn’t seen them in the window. Monday. January 13th, 2014. The worst call a parent could ever receive. “Your daughter is dead.” They found her inside her apartment.
The next couple of weeks were some of the most difficult I have ever faced. I had to coordinate how to get my sister and her belongings from Calgary to North Carolina. Laws are different in Alberta. My parents couldn’t just hand over next of kin to me with a notary. If they chose not to be next of kin, the crown prosecutor would elect who they thought would be the next best choice. Maybe it would be me. Maybe it would be a complete stranger. We decided to have a letter written allowing me to act on my parents behalf. I spoke with the funeral home. I spoke with the landlord. I spoke with her friends. It was decided I would fly to Canada in early February to bring her home.
John came with me. I am so grateful he was there. We closed bank accounts and took what we thought she would want us to have. Some came home with us on the plane and others were mailed back. Most of her larger items we left and allowed her friends to have. She would want her friends to have the shirt of her back if it meant they wouldn’t do without. Her furniture and lawn care equipment were all given to her friends. Saturday night we went to her favourite dive bar in her honour. Monday we flew home. Flying home with a small box clutched in my arms that was once my sister was much more painful than I had imagined. She had to go through the x-ray. I didn’t want to let her go. John calmly convinced me I had to or we would be stuck in Canada.
Traci loved her family. She was an amazing aunt to my children. When Gregory was having a hard time in school, she would call him and encourage him. He looked up to her.
I am not a fan of the cold and I don’t like the snow. Traci kept asking me to come visit her and go skiing in Banff. I never did. Now I wish I had. I always joke that her final act of defiance was to get me in Alberta in the winter. John made sure we went to Banff. We didn’t go skiing but we had lunch above the cute little town atop of the mountains.
Our grandfather died in 2003. From that moment on she always said she wanted to be buried next to him. We honoured her last request. Her final resting place is directly beside Papa.
Life isn’t the same without her goofy personality. The pieces get picked up and life continues but something is missing.
I love you little big sis!
Oily Minded Medic 