To me, she was wonderful and funny. She was classy, beautiful, and simple. Not a bad kind of simple but rather a rich kind. There was no stress, no pressure, no pretense with Jeanette. She was beautiful all on her own and carried herself so gracefully. Even the wisps of hair on her head were fierce. Her voice was smooth and inviting, kinda like an old friend coming to say hey. Her eyes were probing, gorgeous windows that gazed into your soul. I felt like I could tell her anything--from the ridiculous crushes I had on boys in school to the gross stories about the "things" on my wall. In turn, she told me a few gross, funny stories.
What made her so special was that she understood and accepted my quirks. She laughed at my bad jokes and told a few herself. We went on beauty runs, food runs, and "just us girls" runs. I tear up writing this because there were so many times I just wanted to ask in all my childhood innocence if she'd be my mother. She honored me with love, care, and attention. She helped my dad re-shape some of his "bad boy" habits. She didn't impose on our father/daughter bond--she improved it. She was the on-call angel who gladly took flights whenever we needed help. She just...was everything.
What hurts the most is that she died before I could send off a letter thanking her for everything. I was so ready to give her all my well-written thanks for making such an awkward childhood not suck so much. I was so ready to chill with her in D.C., taking in the Cherry Blossom Festival and dancing to TLC records all night with her two grand-daughters. Time robbed us of those moments. Fate....well, fate decided our time was up. Much as it hurt me, it crushed daddy. We lost such a great part of our lives. Years later, I sat and researched what took her from this world--Sarcoidosis. In the last years of her life, she kept such a strong face and held her head high. When the doctors eventually told her she would die soon, she still smiled. She still did what she could. She still played it cool.
While I regret not being able to say goodbye in person, I found a way to do it in my own time. One night, I recorded a long story about her on this long-gone site called earfl. Well, that site's gone now. So's my story. I decided to put it here, where I know it wouldn't disappear into cyberspace. I think about her when I think I might be taking things for granted. I think about the great love she and dad shared, pining for a piece of that whirlwind pie of my own. It started with my godfather introducing the two at a dinner party, and just took off from there. When I met her, I just thought she was the most beautiful, smart, wonderful person ever. I miss her, her seafood knowledge, and that laugh. GOD. She laughed with such poise and mirth in her soul!
I guess what I'm saying is this--when it comes to the people we love and cherish, don't hesitate in thanking them. Don't hesitate in showing them gratitude. Don't hesitate in cherishing who they are and what you have. It's so cliche, but it's true--tomorrow is not promised. Let them know now instead of later. Be fearless with love for one another.