In memory of Juliet Wilson.
In cancer circles, many of us (myself included) are propelled towards fluency in death – we find ourselves speaking about it, thinking about it, fearing it, and planning what songs we might want played at our funeral every time we have a scare or annual check-up. It’s not about being morbid, but more about creating a false sense of preparedness.
A related preoccupation with our own funeral is knowing that we are unwittingly walking into a future projected haze of a loved one’s funeral. The blinding density of this haze ironically borne from the light that we receive from meeting new friends. New friends who share the same linguistic talents bestowed upon everyone who lives with the inevitability of death.
Juliet.
Sometimes when you meet a new friend, you see “IT” – the undefinable ‘it’ that makes others gravitate and levitate. An infectious positivity, grace and humility, curiosity about the world and others. Gifted with a loving son, an adoring husband, and above all else, an insatiable and almost ferocious dedication to giving support to others.
Juliet.
We connected through Breast Cancer Network Australia (BCNA) a few years ago – I was invited to speak on a panel with other women who had been through breast cancer to share some of our thoughts about how to deal with the emotional impact of cancer. I was about 2 years down the track from finishing treatment, another panellist was 5 years. And then there was Juliet, half-way through active treatment, radiant in her chemo-baldness, laughing during the sound and camera checks about what to do if she forgot her name mid-sentence (the joys of chemo brain fog). Needless to say, for someone barely over 5 feet tall, she held the space in every square inch of that room and its extension into the world wide web. She was a goddess. And yet she had no idea. We did. I did.
Juliet.
Canada to Melbourne. Acting and art to the law. Researcher to creator. Long-term chronic illness patient (Lyme disease) to healthy living advocate and author. Even while enduring the double-whammy of COVID-social isolation + cancer treatment, Juliet was able to do the one thing that gave her oxygen … connecting with others. Through writing and webcasts, video group chats, advocating for more awareness for breast cancer and Lyme disease, she still found time for masked-up walks along the beach. With me.
Juliet.
Wife. Mother. Sister. Daughter. Friend. Rock star. Heroine.
And now Angel. Juliet passed away on the 22nd of July.
In one of Life’s cruellest twists, a diagnosis of terminal (metastatic) cancer was laid on her only a week after she had walked down the aisle at her long-awaited wedding in her heart-home of Prince Edward Island (Canada) to her dream man, witnessed by her son, family and friends. Two weeks later, Cancer took her, witnessed by her new husband, her son, family and friends. Befitting for someone who deserved and longed to be surrounded by love that she finally was, on all sides.
Even in her last week, positivity and gratitude filled her messages to me and no doubt whatever energy she had left was employed to shower gratitude over her beloveds while they were trying to reconcile their new language forming about the inevitability of death.
Juliet’s last text to me, only a few days before she died, started with the words ‘Hello amazing woman!’ and asking how I was going. I’m now sending those words upwards, through the clouds, directly towards the sun’s glorious rays, where rainbows are made and the sunsets over Williamstown beach are painted … I know who’s holding the brushes now.
Goodbye Amazing Woman. May you rest peacefully forever. Thank you for gifting me with some of your light. xo
