Her friends tell me she was proud to be a writer's daughter. To be honest, all I can think of now are all the times I said, "Not now, honey. Daddy's busy. Daddy's working." Later it became, "I'd love to talk, honey, but I'm really busy right now. I'll call you back later." I always thought that there would be a later; that I'd be able to make it up to her tomorrow.
And then one day, we ran out of tomorrows.
I would give it all up, every bit of it. Every byline, every publication credit, everything I've ever written, ever done, or ever might do or write in the future. I would give up every last bit of it, just to have her back again for one more day.
But the universe does not permit that bargain, and so I can only share with you the most difficult words I have ever written.
Emily Kate Bethke
September 22, 1981 - September 25, 2009
Born in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Emily grew up in St. Paul and Oakdale, Minnesota, and passed away suddenly from natural causes in Colorado Springs, Colorado, when she worked as a hairdresser and was a student at Pike's Pike Community College, majoring in Social Work.
A brilliant and beautiful woman with a wonderful smile, Emily was loved by all who knew her for her wit, her laughter, her sense of adventure, her generosity in time and spirit, her artistic talents, and her commitment to the environment, to helping others, and to Harry Potter fandom.
Emily is survived by her parents, Bruce Bethke and Nancy Rotramel, her siblings, Veronica, Frances, and Samuel Bethke and Daniel Patz, her stepmother, Karen, her grandmothers, Charlotte Bethke and Arleen Rotramel, her best friend and "hetero life partner," Erynn Kerwin, her sweetheart, Shaun Short, and many, many more friends and relatives from all across the country. She will be sorely missed by all who knew her.
Emily was a bright shining star who blessed our lives for 28 too-short years.
And then it goes on to give the details of the visitation and services and all that, but that's a lousy way to end, so I went looking for something better. In the end I settled on cribbing and slightly changing some lines from the battered, dog-eared old paperback of The Last Unicorn that I'd given her years ago, that was on the bookshelf next to her bed.
If you're not familiar with the story, the title character, believing herself to be the last unicorn in the world, goes on a quest to find the others, who it turns out have been rounded up and imprisoned by cruel King Haggard. Along the way she collects a group of motley companions, including Schmendrick, a bumbling magician, and young Lír, who desperately yearns to become a true hero, and about halfway through the story she is magically changed into the form of a young mortal woman, in order to hide her from her enemies.
It is while she is in human form that Lír falls in love with her, but in the final confrontation, in which Lír finally becomes a true hero and Schmendrick a true wizard, she is forced to give up her human form and once again become the beautiful, luminous, and immortal being she truly is.
"I don't care about that," Lír said. "I wish I could see her once more, to tell her all my heart. She will never know what I really meant to say. You did promise that I would see her."
The magician answered him sharply. "I promised only that you would see some sign of unicorns, and so you have. Your realm is blessed beyond any land's deserving because they have passed across it in freedom. As for you and your heart and all the things you might have said or didn't say, do not be sad. You have loved a unicorn, and she will remember that when men are fairy tales in books written by rabbits.
"Think of that, and be still."
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