Illustration by Drew Shannon
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When cancer unexpectedly happens, it gives you a new way to look at life.
Two years ago I was diagnosed with Stage 4 metastatic melanoma. After surgery, radiation and immunotherapy I am now in remission and feeling really good.
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During treatment I thought about what I really enjoyed in my life. That bucket list didn’t seem too important. But family and grandchildren? They are a big source of happiness.
As I looked back at my 70-plus years to see what gave me contentment, happiness and strength, I had to really think. Teaching high school was important. I loved working with teenagers. I loved volunteering, organizing fall fairs and helping newcomers settle in Canada. And I remembered I also loved learning how to work with willow.
About 30 years ago I took a two-day class that taught participants how to build a bent willow chair. It was fantastic! Willow has a spirituality about it. It has strength and flexibility in each piece. We had to learn how to bend the soft wood, not to force it but to feel the way the willow wants to bend. It is a lot like life – learning how to bend with things without breaking.
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I came home from the class and thought I could teach it to others in one day. Over the next three decades I ran classes about making a diamondback willow chair. Almost all the participants were women. The days were magical. Some women had barely ever held a hammer let alone an electric drill. They came unsure and afraid that they would wreck their chair. But willow is so flexible that with kindness and care you can shape it. Everyone finished their chair, and took it home that day. They left tired, but proud, and many were surprised at what they could accomplish.
In that class we learned how to adjust to what life throws at us. Whether it be cancer or building willow chairs. Years later, when I see these women, they still talk about the day they made their willow chair.
Now as I enter a new phase in life, I have found something new I want to check off that bucket list after all. I want to build my own willow coffin. What would be better than a green burial? Willow is a symbol of endurance, strength and female energy.
I can’t do the building on my own. I’ll be assisting a master coffin builder who was trained in the U.K. under a master weaver.
It still hasn’t sunk in that I will be building my own coffin, until Tamara, the builder, asked me for my height. Of course the coffin is made to fit just me. So we began.
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On the first day, I spent three hours weaving willow branches to form the base. I started on the floor, then moved to a stool. My fingers and thumbs were sore but the bottom of my coffin looked perfect to me. I remembered that you have to treat the willow with care, bend too fast or too much and it can break. And some did.
Next time, I worked on the body part of the coffin. I even laid down inside to see if it fit. Lying in your coffin is a bit of a mind game but I just enjoyed the experience, took a photo and laughed. The longer, body compartment took the longest to build and was the most difficult. Tamara patiently guided me how to weave the three willow rods, over two and under one. I definitely needed patience.
The final section to work on was the lid. Fortunately, the top is similar to the bottom and I was much faster weaving it this time. There were some details that Tamara showed me how to fix, and I didn’t realize that I could weave three pieces of fine willow to make a braid for a loop. We only broke about four pieces this time, and I successfully made loops to hold the lid on.
The finished product is a willow work of art. I feel proud of what I’ve done, but I have no plans to use it for a long time.
Since willow can last indoors for years, my coffin now sits in my spare room on a guest bed. Each time I enter that room I am taken back when I see the large coffin sitting there, my coffin. I simply smile and breathe in the wonderful willow fragrance.
I’m still not sure if I should show off my work to those who come to visit. What would my friends and family think if I ask, “Do you want to see my coffin?” I’ll play it by ear.
Talking about death can be difficult. We all will die one day, and we should plan ahead. Think about what you want for your burial and celebration.
Mary Gidney lives in Victoria.
