Dear Jazzy Bear,

You were more like your Mom than you could ever imagine - you were born a fighter and never did know when to slow down or take the easy road.  Even when you showed up early for your birth on an uncommonly warm autumn day, they had to pull you out - you were bold and spirited and headstrong from the moment you were born.


You were always in such a hurry to grow up, curious to see what was around the corner and anxious to reach the next level.  It was this, precisely what made you so outspoken and challenging, that made you so bright and strong and independent.  It propelled you through school, through swimming, through camp, through fashion, through bruises and stitches and learning and being a big sister and life-threatening illness and, until yesterday, through life.

I am trying so hard to understand - I'm firmly rooted in the "denial" stage of grief - and feeling like I should lock my kids into little boxes stuffed with bubble wrap so that no harm may come to them.  And then I think of all the amazing and crazy adventures you had in your short life and would never have denied you any of them, even knowing the outcome.  I was so proud watching you grow from a lump in your Mom's belly to training pants to training wheels to training bras to training for your first real job.


I have so many pictures of you, both real and in memories.  They're all crashing around in my head - the way you smelled the day you were born, how jealous I was that your Mom got a nice chubby round baby girl while I got stuck with a skinny stick baby, your laugh, your weird sense of humour, watching you swim and get stuck in the tire tube at the park, how beautiful the picture of you on your first formal night is... and of course our emails the last couple of days with me trying to entice you to come and visit me so I could make sure you stayed on course regardless of the choices you were making.  But my favourite memory will always be you and Wil sitting in the back of the Trooper on our way to get "owie hots" (French fries) while the two of you argued in earnest whether it was "B-Donald's" or "MixDonald's."

I have laughed and cried with your Mom for 16 years as we compared notes on our babies, and I laughed and cried last night when she gave me the news.  "Fucking kids..." we said in frustration and grief.  I'm angry.  I'm sad.  I'm confused.  I'm broken-hearted.  And I can't imagine you having gone out any other way but big - how else would you have ever learnt how to slow down and take it easy?  Damn Alberta springtime and its icy roads.  Damn them.

Despite living so far away from us and having less and less time to spend hanging out as the years went on,  it was so much fun having you grown up enough to be a Facebook friend, and today I am so touched by the notes your friends are leaving behind - words you'll never get to see - and my only hope is that the last thought through your mind was, "I am loved."

I didn't have any pictures of you with me today, Jazz.  I hope you like the ones I picked. <3



Comments

Lynda said…
Nothing I say can take the pain away. Just know that I'm sending you lots of big hugs.
xoxo
reclaiminglife said…
I'm so sorry Hope. Your tribute was beautiful. xoxo So sorry
I never know what to say in these situations, every word seems like the wrong one... Thinking of you and the family that lost their beautiful child that you so gracefully described with such love... <3 xoxo
So sorry for your loss. I can see the type of person she was through your heartfelt words. A wonderful tribute in a time of heartbreak. May those good memories help lessen the grief.
sincerely,
db
I am sorry Hope, this too shall pass. be strong. My love to you and Will and the family. I am only a call away if you need me :)
Angie said…
So sorry for your loss, Hope.
Deanna said…
I am so sorry Hope. Love and prayers to you and all families invloved
be yourself said…
I'm sorry to hear that.

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