I don’t know where to begin or where to end my story about my beloved sister Heather, because it has neither beginning nor ending. She is with me all the time, in my thoughts, my dreams. Many times since she passed I have had the occasion to meet many women who introduce themselves with: “Hi, my name is Heather”. When that happens, and it has happened countless times, it always feels like ‘hello’ from my Heather… My Heather was three years and twenty-eight days older than me, and I worshiped, adored and envied her all at once, all my life. Heather was than and beautiful. I was lumpy and awkward. Heather excelled at sports and making friends. Me, not so much. Heather Elaine Boyd: born December 31, 1957. She hated her middle name. She also hated feet. Not just her own, but everyone else’s…
I am five years old, Heather is eight. I like saying her name a lot because it sounds so soft and gentle. Like feather. Heather feather. Her birthday is New Year’s Eve. She gets to have the Christmas tree up for her birthday party, but I’m not allowed My birthday is January 28th. It doesn’t seem fair to my child brain… I love my big sister. She’s not my only big sister. I have two more, but they are much, much older. Heather and I share a double bed. We draw an imaginary line down the centre of the bed each night so the we each have equal room. But Heather rolls up in all the blankets every night! We also play games in bed, like ‘Sister Batrill in the the Flying Nun”. I get to be Sister Batrill the Flying Nun because Heather has really strong legs. Heather lies on her back and puts her legs into the air. I rest my stomach on the bottom of her feet and she grabs my hands and straightens her legs. I am now flying! Sometimes she crashes my head into the wall above the headboard on purpose. That hurts! I yell and the door opens. Go to sleep!!!! My head hurts, but that was fun. I pick my nose and stick the booger behind the headboard of the bed. I have a big collection back there…
The Sisters of Mercy
“I need to go” Heather rasps almost inaudibly from her hospital bed. She is in a coma, an oxygen tube straddling her nose. My sister Susan and I have signed a do not resuscitate order earlier in the week as per the advice of her doctors and we’ve allowed the hospital to replace her oxygen mask with a tube so that she can start to shut down more peacefully. Whatever that means. Heather pulls at the tube. Eyes still closed she rasps again, “I need to go”. My sister Susan and I are keeping a bedside vigil. It is somewhere around 2 o’clock in the morning. Heather has been in a coma for 3 days and is dying. I look at Susan and we bold out of our chairs and go to Heather’s side. “It’s okay baby. You can go. Go to the light.” I say quietly. Susan has tears in her eyes. The moment has come to let go of her once and for all. The ravages of AIDS have destroyed our sister’s body. Her spirit wants to be released. Susan and I hold hands and keep whispering to her “It’s okay, sweetheart, you’ve fought a long battle. You are so brave… Go to the light”.. Silence. A silent hiss from the oxygen tube… “I need to go shopping!” Heather rasps emphatically. She’s dreaming. She’s dreaming about shopping… Heather loves to go shopping. Susan and I start to laugh and cry at the same time. A nurse comes in to check on Heather. We tell the nurse what just happened. She has such a kind energy. I wonder how some people can be nurses. It is astonishingly hard work. The night nurse adjusts Heather’s tube while Susan and I retreat to our chairs. We are still wiping tears from our eyes… Two days later, Heather finally slips away…
The Boogie Man
I live at 1843 Kitchener street, a shuffle two bang and a shuttle ball beat. This is how I was taught to remember my address. I take tap dancing lessons at the Marge Berri studio on Commercial drive, so now I can remember my address to tell a policeman in case a bad man kidnaps me or if I’m lost. I am 4. My sister Heather is 7. She has a cat. I have a dog. We all play on the front lawn. Our neighbors live in a big house. There is a Chinese family on the upstairs part. They hit their children. My mum called the people to tell them about the Chinese family who hit their children. In the basement there is a man my daddy talks to and is friendly with. This man is Ab. My daddy calls him Skip. Ab says hello to Heather and me. He says he has a new colour television set. Have we ever seen a colour television set before? No. We have black and white. I want to see colour television. I want to see Popeye and Batman and all my friends with colours. Heather and I go into Ab’s place. I am looking at colour television for the first time and it’s beautiful, just like my Viewfinder. I want to have colour television… Do you like this Heather? Heather? But Heather isn’t there beside me. She is gone. I am alone and terrified in Ab’s place. I am Lynda Boyd and I live in 1843 Kitchener street, a shuffle toe bang… I race out of Ab’s and dash up my front stairs and into the kitchen, where everyone is standing around and Heather is crying. My father grabs my arm and whips my legs with his belt. Again. And again. I am hurting. Please stop. Stop daddy. “I thought I told you never to go into Ab’s apartment?!” Smack! “Why don’t you listen?”… I am dreaming of colour television.
Little Shop of Horrors
“You have to get this part, Lynda” Heather says weakly. “You have to”… Today is my audition for Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors. It is Sunday March 27, 1994. Heather died two days ago. I have not spent any time preparing for this audition. I go because she wanted me to. One of the first actors I meet there is my friend Jamie. He knew and loved Heather. “I am so sorry about your sister”… “Thank you Jamie”… He introduces me to his girlfriend who is also there to audition. “Lynda, this my girlfriend Heather”… That name lingers in the air for several moments. We all feel it. “I am so sorry about your sister” Heather says… This feels surreal… My turn to sing is up. I barely know the tune or lyrics to Suddenly Seymour but I call upon dear old sis to back me up. Help me do this, I pray as I walk into the room… Her presence is definitely here with me… I am cast as Audrey… I find rehearsals very healing. Heather is around me all the time. I sing the songs in the car on the way to my day job. I sing the songs in the car on the way back from my day job. I rehearse 3 times per week. We open and it’s a hit, as far as semi-professional standards go. Halfway through the run, some very close friends are coming to see the show. I have comps available so I put 2 tickets under one of their names. After the show I learn that when they went to the will call ticket window, there were no comps under either of their names. They asked the woman to look under Lynda Boyd. Nothing. “Oh, but there are two comps under Heather Boyd”…
Early Memory
Me and Heather play the Avengers and Batman. We dress up as the characters. Heather is always Mrs. Peel and I have to play Mr. Peel and have a cane, which I borrow from my blind brother Charlie. When it’s Batman, Heather always plays Catwoman. I always play the Penguin. I don’t care, I just love to play make believe with my sister. This morning, we are listening to Paul Revere and the Raiders… “Cherokee People, Cherokee tribe, so proud to live, so proud to die”… I am Married to Mark Lindsay and Heather is married to Paul Revere. Our husbands wear funny hats in the band but they are very handsome. My husband is an Indian. Heather and I have two babies each. Heather is concerned that Paul’s celery is not going to be enough to buy food and clothes for the baby. I ask her how to buy things with celery. “Not celery, salary! S-A-L-A-R-Y! The money he earns” They sound exactly the same to me. And plus I don’t know how to spell.
Palliative Care
Heather and I are sitting on the outside deck on floor 7, the Palliative floor. We are smoking. Heather has had pneumocystis pneumonia 3 times in the last 2 years, and many other opportunistic HIV- related diseases. She now has full blown AIDS. She has lost half her body weight and is nourished through a feeding tube inserted in her stomach. “I think I want to have another baby” she whispers… her words linger in the air and I am unsure how to respond. “Now?” I ask. “Yes, now.” she says. “I have been thinking about it a lot and I would really like to have another baby” I am unsure how to proceed. My sister has AIDS related dementia and I have no training or skills. But I know how to play make believe with my sister. “I think that would be lovely, when you’re feeling better.” Heather smiles briefly. I follow her gaze off somewhere out there beyond the 7th floor balcony where her mind is taking her now. She inhales deeply on her cigarette…