Erin Sullivan

An Irish girl with a zest for life.

Erin was born with Cystic Fibrosis. She knew from a young age that she would likely not live as long as most. She had a special way of finding beauty and joy in the mundane, and shining her bright light everywhere she went.


Soul Recharge

Erin Sullivan was my cousin, and fellow flower lover. 

She had a zest for life, and love for nature. She saw beauty in the simple things, and took time to soak it all in. I remember watching her pause while walking through our woods on a winter day. She just stood there, face in the sun, eyes closed, soaking in the slowly falling snowflakes as they melted on her warm cheeks. I watched her recharge her soul.

Erin was never afraid to talk about the hard things. We talked about death, hers included. We talked about her fears, and her hopes. We talked about how hard life can be, and how flipping awesome it is at the same time. We talked about our privilege, and our duty to help those who need it. We talked about what it would be like when she died. She kind of already knew, she had a preview. She told me it felt warm, arms wrapped around you like a big hug. Complete and total peace. After she had this preview, she told me she had absolutely no fear of death. Her calm certainty about this gave me a sense of reassurance. I felt lucky to have heard first hand, a glimpse of what comes next. 

The last sunset

Saying goodbye to Erin happened slowly. We hugged a little tighter when each visit came to an end.. Just in case. I grieved the loss of Erin before she was gone. I grieved as I saw her unable to do the things she loved, with ease. Anticipatory grief was new to me, and it was complex. Our final goodbye was in October 2022. Her hospital room was decorated with flowers, while her favourite songs quietly played in the background. The hallways and waiting rooms were overflowing with those who loved her, gathering as a community for her final send off. I held her hand, and told her how much I loved her. I told her how much of an impact she had on this world, and how our kids would grow up hearing stories about her. I told her she would never be forgotten, and that her legacy would live on. I told her it was okay to go. She opened her eyes, and smiled. This was our goodbye.

When I got home that evening, as a family we went to the woods. Erin’s place of serenity. We walked quietly, and watched the sun set.

Erin taught me how to use nature to recharge my soul. She showed me beauty in the small things, and reminded me not to take life too serious. I live my life differently now, because of Erin.

“May you and yours be healthy and well

May light grow within, as each new flower opens towards the sun

May you and your continue to know deep love, peace, strength, and joy

Yay, flowers!

Love you”

- Erin Sullivan