I woke up at 4 this morning, feeling pinned in, hemmed in by grief. Tears burnt as they rolled down and I couldn't stop.
The irony to me is that I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she's with God right now. Jaime's faith wasn't just in her words, it was in her actions. It was never more tested, she even told me, than over the last two years.
The funny thing? A week ago, we had talked about her job transitions--she was starting to feel better, more motivated, and more excited about her job than she had for over a year. The cluster seizures over the past two years had really taken a toll on her morale, as we kept hoping that they were under control. She'd go several weeks without one, was doing well on sleep and routines and we'd talk excitedly about when she'd be able to drive again (in MO, you have to be seizure free for 6 months before legally allowed to drive) and how the supplements were making her more clear headed and able to remember more. Then another would strike and we'd all curse, but were thankful that things were looking up. She had started seeing a counselor months ago to help with the depression. For over a year, we'd hoped that the seizures would slow down, lessen in number. They didn't and at times kept her from feeling productive and doing her job or made her feel frustrated and unable to ask for help (and unsure of what help to ask for)--but, she told me last Thursday that she finally felt like she could cope with them. She seemed somewhat at peace with the fact that they were part of regular life for her, and she didn't grow depressed when they happened or hold her breath that they were gone--she worked around them. She sounded more upbeat and stronger than I've heard her in ages. We had an amazing lunch that day as Tristan had asked to see her and she didn't feel so overwhelmed by work that she couldn't join us. After Las Palmas, she went home to write another story/drama for Kid Friendly Service.
She practically bounced in and out of my car that day--and laughed pretty hard as my two kids proceeded to cry at the same time as we waited for food. She praised Tristan for sitting in his seat and eating so well with a fork. She commented on how far he'd come, and fed Roran a bottle while I ate before eating her own food. I kept apologizing for the crazy noise and she told me, "Emily, you have two little ones--this is the way it's supposed to be. Sort of. This phase will pass with them, and by then hopefully James and I will have adopted and you can laugh at us and the chaos."
Last Sunday, as we ate lunch together and then played games later that night, we talked a bit more about them adopting, our latest reads, about dance--and Roran's upcoming baptism. It was mundane and happy stuff--and, reflecting on a life, I'm so glad it was.
Jaime was so much more than "director of youth and family services" and "a beautiful singing voice" and "a great tap dancer." Depression had been a challenging road we both walked together, but that didn't define her, either. She loved the color green. She played scrabble better than anyone else I know. She loved talking about missions, her time in Africa, her LCGS kids, and had such a passion for ministry it was infectious. She loved Lia Sophia jewelry--and we'd laugh if we wore the same piece one day. Her love of reading was amazing too--I found often that if I recommended a book to her that I'd just read, she'd already read it! She was a deep thinker and could be very quiet, but would break into dance in random moments of joy that I had the pleasure of observing on many occasions. She loved James, and we talked often about the challenges and amazing-ness of marriage, especially being married to programmers. She loved her mom and dad and the passion they have for people and each other. She loved Kate N. and Katie G. like sisters and we often talked about them as often as we talked about my sister. She was passionate about music and teaching our LCGS sign language to go with the songs. She created safe places for kids to explore and talk about God and to sing, dance, play and worship as part of our kid friendly service. She set boundaries and helped children learn how to care for each other within the church. I found myself in the youth room often staring at the rules on the wall, marveling at the caring and disciplined way in which she constructed these. She did the same with their dog, Lucy (though not in the church!) She could bake spectacular cheesecakes. She...
I cannot even find all the words I wish I had to say what a void she leaves behind--in my life, the lives of my children, our church, among our friends and in general. I am amazed at the ripples left behind, but each one speaks of her faith, her passions and a love that connects her to each of us.
