Carol Shields would be 80
years old today.
It’s crazy to imagine that it
has been more than 10 years since she lost a brave and courageous battle with
breast cancer. My bookshelves are lined with volumes of her extraordinary works
about many conventional things and people: casseroles and scarves and mothers
and daughters. My writer’s tool box is full of immeasurable instruments of inspiration
garnered from her and from them I learned the redemptive power of writing, to have
faith in the movement of my pen, to observe the intricacies of the ordinary, to
advance my voice, elevate human connection, foster it and use it to be a better
writer; a better person. I learned a great deal about character development
from her keen skills and, much about detail, voice, texture and truth. I can
only hope they translate, even just a little in the work that I dare to put into
the world.
When I learned she was sick, I
wrote a long gushing handwritten letter to her in the hospital. I expressed my
eternal gratitude for her superlative contribution to Canadian literature, for
her exceptional female presence as a writer, for the moments of transcendence
while tucked eagerly into the pages of her books, for the lessons, the
enlightenment, empowerment and for the words. What shocked me weeks later was
receiving a reply on a non-descript plain white postcard thanking me for my
kind words, for reading hers and for the well wishes. It chokes me up to think
of her in her hospital room scribbling notes to those like me who refused to
miss the opportunity to express how deeply she touched our lives: a remarkable
woman, even on her deathbed. I will cherish that note the rest of my days.
Her words resonate, then and
now. I wish she could still be with us, painting the creative landscape with
her beautiful prose and poems. There were so many stories left for her to tell
but as life would have it, not enough time.
The works she did leave behind
are valuable and voluble. She created literary magic culled from her own life,
in her own unique way. She was generous, of spirit, of talent and for that and
so many other reasons, a treasure.
Happy birthday to you up in
the Heavens, Carol Shields.
We love you always and are
grateful for your wisdom and your beautiful words.
In propinquity,
Nic
A lovely piece, Bean. She told the stories she had come to tell. There were no more, else she'd still be here. I've come to believe this of anyone who leaves us before we are ready to let them go. We must revere the work she left behind; her legacy and her wisdom are the things she was meant to give us - and give she did, to have touched you so.
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It truly does. I wonder if I'll ever reach that plain one day?
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