Will

by Will Smith

About ten days later, I was on the set of Bright, a Netflix fantasy action cop film directed by David Ayer. We were shooting in downtown Los Angeles. Joel Edgerton, my costar, was behind the wheel of our patrol car; he was my partner in the movie. David Ayer approaches the window. “Bro, you need to call your father immediately,” he says softly. “It’s an emergency.” Even when you’re expecting these phone calls, it doesn’t make it less jarring. My heart was racing. I dialed Daddio’s cell. He answered. “Hey, man.” “Hey, Daddio, what’s up?” “I think it’s tonight,” he said. His words hit me like a thousand volts. “OK,” I said calmly. The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying had stressed the importance of making a calm space for the transition of loved ones. “Do you want to FaceTime?” I asked. “Yeah. But shit, I don’t know how to do that …” “I got you—I’ll FaceTime you,” I said. “You just have to answer.” “Ellen, come do this FaceTime thing, Will about to call …,” he yelled to my sister who had just arrived. My cousin Ricky, a Philadelphia fireman who had been caring for Daddio, is holding the phone. It’s 2:00 a.m. in an empty downtown LA parking lot. I stand under the brightest streetlight I can find. I want him to be able to see me. We simply look at each other. Twenty minutes of silence. Finally, I hear my sister Ellen in the background whisper to Daddio, “Dad—you’re just looking. You don’t have anything you want to say to Will?” Daddio searches for one last piece of wisdom. One ...