My own fairy princess

There are no accidents.
God brings certain people into your lives at certain times for very specific reasons.
I’d been having a crummy year. There were massive layoffs and shakeups at work. My dog died after I fed her contaminated dog food. My father was slowly dying from cancer. I figured it was just more of the same bad luck when we received the call from a doctor at a hospital in Burbank, Calif., on that August day in 2007.
In a solemn voice, the doctor told us that my sister-in-law, Mara, was in the hospital. It happened to be the same day my father-in-law was scheduled for major surgery at Brandon Regional Hospital. We’d just been informed that this normally independent, vibrant 83-year-old man was going to have to come live with us while he recuperated.
Now this doctor in Burbank was delivering a second blow. In a shaky voice, she told us that Mara had advanced non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, Stage IV.
There was no hope, the doctor said. She thought the best thing was for us to come to California and bring Mara back to Florida so she could die surrounded by her family.
I never gave it a second thought. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t a matter up for consideration. There was only one thing to do.
I turned to my husband, Michael, and said, “I’ll take care of your dad. You go get Mara.” It was the first time in our 25 years of marriage that I saw my husband cry. His father was facing major surgery that could end his life. His sister had been given a death sentence. And all I could be certain of is that God, for whatever reason, had placed the care of these family members in my hands.
I desperately needed a fairy godmother.
Instead, God brought me a fairy princess complete with her own supply of fairy dust.
If you don’t believe me, take a close look inside my house. Mara has been gone nearly nine months now and my vacuum cleaner and duster are still picking up the fairy dust she left in her wake.
You see, my sister-in-law was a real-life fairy princess. The majority of the time, she was Snow White, though she would transform into Tinkerbelle, Cinderella and Princess Anastasia at various times. Frankly, after seeing her in the role, I, for one, truly believed she embodied the spirit of Snow White with her creamy white skin, long, wavy black hair and sweet, high-pitched voice.
One of Mara’s favorite sayings was, “Believe in miracles – expect magic.” I saw no reason why she couldn’t be the character she portrayed for children’s birthday parties.
She loved children and children loved her. I think one of the reasons she related so well to children is because they accepted her. They didn’t judge her. And they never took advantage of her generosity.
So creating a business as a children’s entertainer was ideal. Mara loved dressing up as storybook characters. She loved singing, dancing and performing magic tricks for children. She loved throwing parties for kids. And she loved being the center of attention.
I worried how she would cope when she became sick and had to leave all that behind.
Up until then, her appointment calendar had been filled with activities.
“Jan. 6 – party for Riley, age 3, Sleeping Beauty, $150 check, lovely thank you,” read her diary.
“Jan. 16 – Snow White party – Anna Sophia, 6, gave me a blush pink rose. It made me so happy.”
“Jan. 29 – mermaid party – Jessica gave me the mermaid from her cake.”
“March 4 – three doll cakes. So cute. Pink tablecloths. White chandelier with little pink birds.”
“April 17 – Jasmine party – macaroons, lily of the valley, hyacinth, pink, magenta, soft blue.”
She took as much delight in every party as the little girls who were honored.
But, once here, Mara seemed content to give up her party life and simply appreciate each moment she had left on earth “before God makes me his angel.”
“I always knew I’d die young,” she told me. “I’m the eternal woman-child. I never wanted to grow up. Now I’ll never have to.”
She loved to fill the bird feeders in our back yard with seed and watch the birds come and go or pick flowers from my garden and put them in vases all over my house. When my plumeria bush bloomed for the first time, she was convinced it bloomed just for her. She spent hours just staring at that white plumeria bloom, marveling at its beauty. I’ve never met anyone who was so appreciative and aware of the beauty around her.
Nor have I ever met anyone so appreciative of any kindness shown toward her. She was always making handmade thank-you cards and gifts for people in gratitude of the smallest expression of thoughtfulness.
I think her acceptance of her death lay in her enormous spirituality. She never married but wrote in her journal, “God is my prince.” She would note people she wanted to pray for on certain days and would pepper her appointment calendar with Bible verses like, “Blessed are the pure of heart for they shall see God,” “Children are the greatest in the kingdom of heaven,” “Trust God; delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart,” “God will take care of those who serve Him and sincerely endeavor to do His will,” and “There shall be showers of blessings sent by God above.”
The toll on her physical appearance was the only indication of her illness’ progression. I never once heard her complain about pain or feel sorry for herself. I marveled at the way she kept going when most people would have been bedridden.
Apparently God thought I needed a reminder of how wonderful life is. So he sent me a fairy princess, a fairy princess who relished every moment of life until her death.