Eulogy to Jess From her step-mom, Kathy
On behalf of Neil and myself, Lisa, Jason and Katie, I thank all of you for your kindnesses. We literally feel every thought, prayer, hug, and helpful act, your participation in today’s service—the strength of this love surrounds us—helping us hold on to this world in a time of great and sudden grief. When people ask us what they can do, we respond, “You already have.” We are truly blessed.I clearly remember the first time I met Jess. She was almost seven. I was standing in the foyer to Neil’s house and Jess came sailing down the hall on her way to the kitchen. She looked like an angel with a purpose—all aglow, radiant in fact, beautiful and surrounded by a gold aura. She was in charge! She proudly showed me how she could climb door frames—all the way to the top!
A couple of years later the three of us went to an outdoor art fair in Asheville, moving from one tent to another. Jess, of course, was faster than us in exploring the items. Suddenly, we realized she was no longer with us. Just as quickly she returned with some wonderful object. Before we could question her on how she obtained it, she proudly told us she had bargained with the artists in the next tent in order to purchase it with her small allowance—truly a giveaway based on the asking price.
As the photo on the back of the program suggests, Jess was always petite—never rising above 5 feet and always the tiniest in her class. This feature made her amazing ability to persuade others—even adults when she was a child—that much more astounding. I once walked in the kitchen and overheard her conversation on the phone. She was 11 or 12 at the time and was seeking donations for some cause she supported. I was amazed at her ability to speak like an adult—well, with better rhetoric than I will ever possess! She got what she wanted.
Jess always created a beautiful living space for herself and us. She even convinced us at one time to let her paint her bedroom purple—which was a compromise over the black she really wanted. Through the years, every time she moved into a new place, she painted it in beautiful, creative colors. Even when she was seriously ill—she would get someone to do it for her. A college friend and roommate reminded us a few days ago about the time when they collaged old kitchen cabinets with cutouts she had managed to get—for free—from Starbucks. She told her roommate, “The mean landlord is going to find a way to keep our damage deposit no matter what....”
Just last summer Neil and I were preparing to have the inside of our house painted. I spent hours searching for the colors I wanted. Then, I turned to Jess, the family expert. In 15 minutes she walked through the house thinking about my choices. She approved some and then very diplomatically asked for the thick book of swatches. She went to a new section and quickly found another color for the family room. She explained why the new color was better, but I loved my choice. So, I got poster boards and sample paint in each color and tried them out. What a mistake I would have made! Jess’ color was perfect! Mine was a disaster! I always silently thank of her when I enter that room.
One of my favorite memories was of the time I first realized what a genius Jess was with color and design. She was eight, I think, and with us on Halloween. She was getting her costume ready—a scary witch—and asked me to apply her face paint. We went in the bathroom where our tiny child could not see in the mirror. She began to dictate how she wanted me to apply the black and white paint. It was as though she was looking at a picture and reading instructions—but it was all in her imagination. I can judge my work after I see it but not before. So, I just did what I was told to do. It was amazing! You would think a gifted artist had designed her face!! She was that gifted artist/designer.
I once told a friend that step-parenting is really hard. She, a member of a blended family, shot back, “not any harder than being a step-child!” I was jolted into the realization that I needed to try to see things from Jess perspective. Jess was always loyal to her mother. I admired her for that. And, she adored her father, as do I. This love for Neil was perhaps the thing that we shared most in common. Her bridge over troubled waters was her father—as he is mine. In really challenging times when the world seems to fall apart, Paul Simon’s words ring true for us: “I stand alone without beliefs. The only truth I know is you.” I think it was like that at times for Jess. One consolation for Neil, especially, is that Jess always had him in her life. One bit of mothering I can claim is that I usually had her number—about childhood mischief that an adoring father can miss. She told Lisa recently that she actually appreciated that.
Jess kept many notebooks/journals. She wrote in one:
And OK to be a
broken family
the necessary
the heartbreaking
the wonderful
and can you even fathom the (re)blending.
My most precious gift ever from Jess was a bracelet she made for me last spring. I was about to undergo treatment for cancer and she went to the bead shop, inquired about healing stones, and created a beautiful bracelet I will cherish always. I am wearing it today and wore it to every treatment session.
Recently, Jess wrote in one of her notebooks:
Who’d a thunk it?
make stuff
~ jewelry
~ journals/bookmarks/ bookplates
• leather cord work?
• engraving/branding
• wax seeds
• the whole
• Little Alters everywhere
In the past few years as Jess’ health problems took over in her life, there wasn’t a day that I didn’t anguish over her pain—as did all her friends and family members—and Jess herself. While we focus this evening on celebrating Jess’ life, it just doesn’t seem right to me to omit this part of her life entirely from the service. It was so much a part of her these last few years, before the tragic accident took her life.
Jess wrote recently in one of her notebooks:
1) never knowing what you’re gonna get
2) so many surgeries over the years
3) the feeling of burden & of weightlessness almost simultaneously ... and I’m only talking about my body.
Life—good god ~ not but a small parcel of it ... And what about being a parent, family member ...
friend, associate
At least the many types of pain Jess lived with each day are no longer. At least Jess and all of us have that peace now. But, oh how I can visualize the contributions she would have made in this world! Her future happiness as she enthusiastically embraces another project and accomplishes impossible things. As she parents children—Jess was amazing with children including her niece, Katie. I see art, clothing and jewelry and think about Jess surrounded in her living spaces by beauty she created.
Jess also wrote:
How huge, daunting,
& yet exciting is
Living.
Getting older.
Naturally
Very self aware.
But verbouse with the ridiculous mundane;
The decisions to be made, literally every
Single, passing day…
But alive.
But alive…
Us all? Me? Us? Mom?
Jenny Arthur recently formed a discussion group around the book, Falling Upward. The author, Richard Rohr explains that it is through hard times that we find a deeper spirituality—we need that outside force of adversity to energize us. He discusses how we start out learning our survival dance in life—and that many of us may never get to our sacred dance. I disagree that it has to be like that. I don’t believe it was for Jess. She struggled with her survival dance and yet I see so many signs of her sacred dance. As isolated with illness as she was in the past few years, Jess’ friends are fierce in their loyalty to her influence in their lives. In her apartment we found quotes, aphorisms, her own musings, on signs on the walls, on magnets on the refrigerator, on bumper stickers on her car, in her journals. In the words to John Lennon’s song Imagine that Neil found hand written by Jess in her car—and that we will sing together this evening. Clearly, Jess was continuously striving to dance her sacred dance.
As testimony to this sacred journey, I promised Hannah Petri who can’t be here tonight, and who was Jess’ college friend and then Knoxville roommate for two years, that I would share her message to Jess.
Dear Jess, We have been the best of friends for 12 years. You loved fully and unconditionally. You always saw the best in people especially when they were not at their best. You CARED! This world was not big enough for you. I wish you all the best and I am thankful that you are safe and out of pain. The following is for you and sums up our time together:
From Shel Silverstein: "The bridge will only take you halfway there, to those mysterious lands you long to see. Through gypsy camps and swirling Arab fair, and moonlit woods where unicorns run free. So come and walk awhile with me and share the twisting trails and wondrous worlds I’ve known. But this bridge will only take you halfway there. The last few steps you have to take alone."
Hannah ends with another quote, From Cicero:
They seem to take the sun from the heavens who take friendship from life.
And Neil asked me to share words from Ralph Waldo Emerson, words that represent truth to him and are truth for Jess’ life.
Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth that around every circle another can be drawn; that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning, and under every deep a lower deep opens.
And I pray: Jessica, my dearest daughter, please come walk with me from time to time.
And now, my beloved birth daughter, Jess’ step-sister, Lisa Roberts will share her thoughts. ...
