Delivered on March 5, 2022 at Jackie's Memorial Service

When I think back on it, I can’t think of the first conversation I ever had with Jackie. I’m sure we must have had a first conversation; everyone starts somewhere. But I can’t recall shaking her hand for the first time or saying: “It’s so nice to meet you.” We must have. But that conversation is lost in the vault of forgotten memories.

Jackie is just someone who was there one day. And if you had told me ten years ago that I would sit with her in her daughter’s room, folding her clothes; or that I would would manage a fundraiser or a Facebook page for her; that I would be the person people reach out to asking how she’s doing; or even that I would be writing a eulogy, I wouldn’t have believed you.

Ten years ago, I thought I’d be somewhere else entirely. I’m sure I had all sorts of dreams that are also lost in that vault with my first conversation with Jackie.

I can’t write Jackie’s story. I can only write mine. But my story has been forever changed simply because Jackie was in it. So, here we go…

Many of us today feel like we were robbed. Jackie was only thirty-seven. She had everything to live for and dreams to chase. It doesn’t feel fair that someone so bright, so loved, so alive, could just be gone.

But just as many of us were never supposed to meet Jackie. Her challenges began before she was even born. Her first open heart surgery was when she was four years old, and it was unlikely she would survive. Yet, she did.

Not only did she survive that initial heart surgery, but she survived several more. Nine different devices, lead transplants, countless aortic arrhythmias that plagued her for her entire life, a bone marrow transplant, full body irradiation, and chronic graft versus host. She was never supposed to have a child, let alone four. She was never supposed to go to college, get her masters, travel, or to see the world. If she hadn’t beaten the odds, her journey would have ended at four.

We weren’t robbed. We were blessed.

Jackie had an infectious smile. No matter how dark, no matter how sad or terrible a situation was, when Jackie smiled it was like the sun came out. When Jackie laughed, everyone around her laughed too, even if we didn’t get the joke.

Jackie would explode into a room. And she was often late. She would burst in, usually carrying too many bags. Sometimes it could take multiple trips to the car. The story would always be fantastic, usually something to do with a crying child, or an emergency bathroom trip. Maybe a forgotten bookbag.

There isn’t a person that she met that didn’t immediately fall in love with her. It was impossible not to treasure her. Impossible not to see that the person in front of you was a gem. Uniquely quirky, a little bit off, and a whole lot inappropriate yet somehow always at the appropriate time.

She held down a full-time job at Tri-C, with three children at home, managed to juggle designing costumes in her off-time, and still always had time to answer the phone. She always had time to send a text. She even had time to go back to school and get her Masters Degree.

She had time for dance practice, for cheer practice, for football, baseball, and wrestling. She had time to listen to music, to watch a show, to braid your hair.

If you called out, she came. She might be five minutes late with a car full of children. You might have to squeeze in between project bags, car seats and toys. But she’d be there. And she’d have stopped at Starbucks on the way. There was always time for Starbucks, no matter what.

Jackie never took a single second of her time for granted.

Not. One.

We were blessed.

We were blessed with tears of sorrow, and tears of joy. We were blessed with the organized chaos, the unorganized plans, the ups, the downs, and everything in between.

Jackie loved. And she loved fully and fiercely. If you were important to her, she told you. You never had to guess. She made sure everyone around her was seen. She made sure that everyone felt heard. And there was always coffee nearby, even if it was one o’clock in the morning. There was always time for coffee.

Her leukemia year was the worst year. Not just because of her pain or her illness, but because she was away from all of you. Because of Covid, no one could go see her. She couldn’t hug you. She was isolated from everyone she loved. That was the struggle. Cancer was nothing. It was not being with us that is what hurt.

If she were standing here right now, she’d tell you all not to be too sad. I think her love was just so big that it couldn’t be held in anymore. She’s outgrown what her body could contain. In a way, I find peace in this, knowing that she’s resting finally.

Jackie will never have to be afraid again. I was lucky in seeing a few rare glimpses of her vulnerability, in those quiet places where she felt safe to let it all go and just be afraid. She never liked to talk about the future with fear. She always wanted to show everyone the very best of herself. And that’s how she’ll be remembered.

Not in her suffering or in her sickness, but in her bravery. In her steadfast resolve that nothing was unattainable. In her humor that could bring a smile to anyone’s face.

Jackie is in all of us. She’s in every single heart in this room. And she’ll live on, not in her body, but in our hearts and our memories.

So, on this dark day, I challenge you not to be sad but to be grateful. Be grateful that something so wonderful came into your life that makes you hurt this badly. Be grateful for the time you had, no matter how short or how long.

Tomorrow isn’t promised. We only have now. So hug everyone as Jackie would. Laugh loudly, as Jackie would. Be bold. Be unafraid. Be creative and wild. Jackie would never want you to stop finding your joy. Jackie would want you to sing, and dance and be unashamedly who you are. Because she loved you. That’s how you can honor her. That’s how she can live on.

I leave you now, with the words of William Finn and his musical Elegies: A Song Cycle. This song is titled “When the Earth Stopped Turning” This song is sung from the perspective of a son, about the loss of his mother.

The world is good, she said
Enjoy its shit, she said'
Cause this is it, she said
So make a parade
Of every moment
Now pull up to the curb
The sign Do not disturb’s ahead
The truth is that you made my life superb
She said.

"When The Earth Stopped Turning"
Elegies, A Song Cycle
By: William Finn