The other day I was looking at Jacqui's Instagram account, looking for a particular picture thinking that it would take a long time to find because it was posted last spring. I was so surprised to find that it was only a few pictures back. That can mean only one thing - she's been gone since last spring - a year. A year where time has stood still and flown by - it's the longest, shortest year of my life.
Surprises like that happen all the time - it's all still such a shock - so unbelievable. Maybe because after all, with all the ups and downs, all the happy and sad, all the shock and awe of those five years - when she died - it was a surprise. As evidenced by what I wrote on the evening of May 20, just hours before we said our last good-bye:
I was looking at Instagram and noticed that Jacqui's last entry was Friday,
in fact I had to go a long way back to find it.
And her last post on Facebook was also on Friday.
Twitter - not sure, I'm not so into that.
The truth is she hasn't been posting, she hasn't picked up her iPad since
Monday and the last time she used her phone was a funny little one sided phone call yesterday
- her side was pretty quiet.
The fact is that our little "miss social network" is not doing very well.
Another crisis on Sunday is taking its toll and right now she is not well at all.
The doctors aren't hopeful at this point and we are just waiting to see how things progress
One part of me thinks "this is it"
the other side is thinking "she'll be riding her bike on the ridge by the weekend"
... she always bounces back, but we just don't know.
Right now she is quiet, sedated and her breathing is very laboured.
I'm home for a few minutes right now and while driving home I thought of
a couple of things that I can't wait to tell her ...
But then I think - will she wake up? Who will I tell these things to?
So sad
Last week Jacqui had a very meaningful week with conversations
and visits that left her feeling very peaceful and ready for what is to come.
Not resignation, but open armed acceptance.
Ready for a new adventure.
The ultimate in travel, concerts and fine dining with many who have gone on before
So time will tell.
More with us mere mortals or...
The "big" goodbye was just the beginning of a thousand little goodbyes that happen every day. The realization when I wake up, when I come home, when I hear someone coming up the steps to our front door, when I drive her car, the empty room that I walk past, the hair elastics I find in weird places, scribbled notes, thoughtful cards, all the recipes in my recipe box that she rewrote for me, daily memories on Facebook, songs (all the songs), new seasons of her favorite TV shows, movies that she had been waiting for, seeing her prosthetic in the storage room, wearing her clothes, her friends new baby's and weddings - constant, daily, bittersweet reminders. And although it's still a surprise everyday that she's gone, these reminders don't just make me sad, sometimes they are funny too, or annoying or frustrating or goofy or sweet - they are just so Jacqui and they always make me proud, so proud and so very grateful to have been her mom.
Someone asked me the other day if I still think of her every day and was surprised when I answered, "Everyday? At the very least every hour, maybe not every minute, but sometimes it seems like it". I'm following the instructions she left (via Taylor Swift):
Someone asked me the other day if I still think of her every day and was surprised when I answered, "Everyday? At the very least every hour, maybe not every minute, but sometimes it seems like it". I'm following the instructions she left (via Taylor Swift):
Say you'll remember me
Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset
Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset
Red lips and rosy cheeks
Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams
Say you'll see me again even if it's just pretend 
As if I could ever forget you.....
Such realness Carol, so honest - "everyday?" every hour...yes...I hear that. I also hear how proud of J you are and how grateful that she chose you to come to ....to be her Mom.
ReplyDeleteYou really are so strong, as J wants you to be. And the humour and goofy things keep you that way.
I can only send warm hugs.
{{{{{ * }}}}}
I was going through my old bookmarks today and found the link to this blog - I think of Jacqui often - I have many fond memories working together with her at the fruit stand. I'll never forget her :)
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