When I came home from therapy and picking up Charlotte at the Skytrain station from her own counseling session, Don greeted us at our little borrowed bungalow with some oldies playing from Emily’s Spotify playlist on her iPhone.

Charlotte had been reluctant to open the phone, though she knew the password, because she thought it would be invading Em’s privacy; I was against opening it because of my fear of being triggered by things I didn’t know or care to know about; Don wanted to open it so he could retrieve memories, but not invade or search. The three of us collectively agreed that Don could open it with an uninvolved third party. He chose his therapist. (Yes, he also went to see his therapist in the morning; it seems we are in a continuous state of therapizing!)

While I have not yet unlocked the phone and may never, Don assured me there was nothing triggering, but much that was wonderful: unseen photos and Emily’s many playlists. She had such an eclectic and varied taste in music! Last year, we got her a shower speaker for Christmas that she kept in her bathroom, and whenever she got up in the morning or brushed her teeth or did her evening ablutions, the speaker would be turned on and we’d hear all manner of music misting out of the bathroom. 

The particular playlist Don was playing on our arrival home had The Drifters, The Bay City Rollers (my fifth grade favourite!), The Monkees ( from Don’s teenage years), The Beatles (of course – a band she came to love through her Daddy), The Beach Boys, and a sweet little addition of Doris Day, singing Qué Será, Será. This was my Mama’s chosen song: she was always singing it to her three children.

When I was just a little girl

I asked my mother, what will I be

Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?

Here’s what she said to me

Qué será, será

Whatever will be, will be

The future’s not ours to see

Qué será, será

What will be, will be.

Don was full of offerings for the day; he also had a proposal: that solstice be the day that we light a candle for Emily and honour her each year. That, yes, we remark on, recall memories, but not celebrate her December birthday and adoption day, but on solstice, the longest night of the year, we dedicate it to our Emily.

Solstice represents rebirth, renewal, a return to light: this is what we wish for our Emily and we also wish for us, as a family and as individuals. We want to start anew with Emily in our hearts, but with new lives that hold blessings, and hope and joy.

We found a swirly green tapering candle, that perfectly represented Emily with arms uplifted, Don cannily lit it on the electric stove as there were no matches to be found. We encircled the candle, holding one another, and murmured our love and wishes to our beloved daughter and sister. We also said this prayer:

May you be free from suffering.

May you be healed.

May you be at peace.

As the days start to grow longer again, so will our stamina for living without her physical presence. May her light glow within us steadfastly, leading us forward.