Born January 1st, 1982 in Windsor, Ontario, Passed away December 9th, 2020 in Toronto, Ontario. Studied at the University of Toronto, BFA with honours in Art History. Survived by Husband Scott Watkins, Mother Petra Creede, Sister Emilie, her husband Brad, Nephew Jude and Niece Eloise. Predeceased by Father Tony, survived by his daughters Melissa and Cate. Also a beloved family and a cast of friends, intellectuals and ne'er-do-wells.
Although obituaries are a serious subject, this one shall be a less serious obituary. Stephanie, never one to be too serious, was a fan of the funeral of Graham Chapman of Monty Python’s Flying Circus fame. Mother Petra said that would be fine with her as long as we don’t swear, as John Cleese did for Chapman’s eulogy.
Let me tell you the tale of a pirate lass, Stephanie “Bonny Rabbit” Creede. A winsome lass, lover of the age of sail and the Carribean who, with her steadfast first mate and cabin boy Scotter by her side, captured the ship of life, plundered it for its cargo of spice, fine cloth and cajun food recipes, and sailed it to the edge of forever.
When not commanding the waves to do her bidding, Stephanie wrought wonder, wisdom, and joy from any and all craftware and flotsam she found on her journeys. A spinner of tales and a player of roles, she could oft be found telling stories of yore, be they personal, fantastical or historical, creating art in countless forms, or entertaining the assembled crew. Her knowledge of history was unbounded. Many an academic or tavern discussion would be enriched with her witty asides about Elizabeth Cady Stanton or Tycho Brahe. Her knowledge of notable heretics and collected religious paraphernalia enlightened many on their journey of faith and/or salvation. And all who saw her dancing were enraptured and beguiled. Stephanie was dazzling, unfettered, occasionally feathered, and tamed many a barbarian heart. She could bring a tear to an eye as easily as a laugh to mend a broken spirit.
Always ready with a set of jumper cables, a microwave, or a well-lit match for her matchlock pistols, Ms. Creede was adept in all repairs both emotional and physical. Tales will oft be told of her wandering the streets at night offering succor and glue to damaged drag queens and their broken heels, or any other lost sailor in need of aid. She judged none she met, but bravely invited any and all weird creatures to join her motley crew. She held forth in taverns, galleries and salons, and ruled her galleon and her galley with equal amounts of aplomb and love for everyone.
Her family often joined her journeys, and she theirs. When she could catch her sister Emilie, Stephanie would make her act the drunken sailor, walking her around with Emillie’s heels on her feet, like she was teaching a cat the jig. When Emilie’s Brad brought out nephew Jude, she would giggle as she hoisted the young lad into the rigging, and snort as he made a nest for paint brushes in mate Scotter’s beard. They would dance and laugh and put on plays before old sails while mother Petra held baby Eloise and smiled.
She had the charm of a mermaid, the allure of a siren, and steered her crew like Odysseus through many a rough sea. She had the immense heart of a leviathan, and the joy of a seal with a ball. She was as bold a ship on the seas as she was a guiding lighthouse on the shore. She may be sailing into forever, but her beacon light will always shine.
Full steam ahead, my love.
We love you.