We learned last night that our dear Philadelphia friend Emily Davis passed away. After watching her fight through years of illness and one previous bout with cancer, it's hard to believe it actually got her this time. She's kept herself going by force of will so long she seemed indestructible. I'm so grateful for the years I had to know her and serve with her, and sad for future fourth-ward members who won't have the chance to come under her influence.
My favorite Emily Davis story happened when I went with her to the hospital to get a chemo port for her first cancer. It was an outpatient procedure so I sat with her and held her hand while the doctors and nurses were working. They kept looking at us strangely (Emily was 25 years older than me and African-American) and one nurse finally asked us how we knew each other. Emily's reply was priceless. "Can't you tell? We're sisters!"
We may have been sisters but I relied on her like she was my Philadelphia mother. Especially after Lucy and Gavin were born. She helped me learn to be gentle on myself as a parent. When I was called to be the Relief Society president, I agreed on the condition that Emily would be my counselor. Her wisdom and experience made up for so much of what I lacked. But I think she helped me most by being a calming influence -- Emily did nothing in a hurry, she spoke and moved with absolute grace and deliberation -- it was impossible to be stressed out around her. Especially when she wrapped you up in one of her expansive hugs, which she did frequently, with everyone.
I will always appreciate Emily for making our book club read Gloria Naylor. Mama Day was amazing (Emily, I still have the book you lent me). The Women of Brewster Place was tough going, though. I'll never forget that book club meeting. We had an incredible, eye-opening discussion about race and violence and poverty. In this and so many other ways, Emily helped the displaced-westerner grad students in our ward bridge the wide gap between us and the city we had adopted. She helped us not be afraid of differences, but to understand and appreciate them, and even to enjoy them. Her education and professional experience made her one of "us" but she was also thoroughly Philadelphian. After knowing Emily for a while, such arbitrary distinctions ceased to make sense, and were simply abandoned. To Emily, we were all sisters. Can't you tell?
I'll miss you, Emily. Thank you. I look forward to meeting you in the next life and discovering what more amazing things you can do in a body free of pain.
