Thoughts of My Daughter Jennie

Jennie, today I watched as your daughters put flowers out for you.

Jennie, 14 years ago, your only son came into this world. With me and grandma there with you.  I remember how brave you were. And how happy.  He’s got a happy day planned. He sounds good. He’ll be thinking of you. He’s a good person. Loving. To me he acts polite at best. Our special bond has been broken.

Jennie, you can take a great deal of pride in D. He really has negotiated a tough road. He’s got a long, hard road ahead still, but he’s done an admirable job of finding a way to survive. And we’re here if he ever needs us. 

Jennie, we’ve done our best to get here. Now we’re doing what we can. But it is very hard, and what’s happened should never have happened. And their suffering is almost unbearable to me. 

Jennie, you are loved forever and always.

Jennie, I am sorry everyday that I didn’t understand. What you were living with was unbearable. We have all come to understand how things were, and see first hand just how destabilizing it would have been. It’s all too late.  I’m with you in these days while you were still here to kiss and hold, and before you gave everything you had. There are 7 strangers who will also be remembering you in a deep and profound way. Their lives tied to our tragedy, If I had seen what was happening to you, would you still be here? 

 

Jennie, your beautiful, smart, thoughtful son is having his leaving middle school ceremony now. I hope it’s a good day for him. He’ll be thinking of you.  I hope he realizes how much I wish we could both be there with him. 

Jennie, I feel you so close, it’s hard to believe that you’re gone. I love you forever. 

 

Jennie, I cherish the memories of the lilac from your garden. I’ve been thinking of it for the last 10 days or so.  I’ll be at the cemetery on Sunday, thinking of you as a mother, and your children without you. And me too. 

Jennie, I’m thinking of you, and remembering. You did such a good job of being a mother to I. I’m so proud of you. I did tell you that. If you were here I would tell you again. I know you would be so upset that your family can’t wish her happy birthday, and give her and your other children all our love and let them know how much they matter to us. 

Jennie, it felt like a warm summer evening on Tuesday when I visited Grandma. The feeling of the summer’s evening 634 days ago (or 1 year, 8 months and 26 days), is already in the air. I longed to walk down the road and find you home, with your children around you. My heart filled my chest with that longing. Your garden is starting to come alive. Some blooms already. There seems to be nice people living there who love and care for your garden. No kids running around yet, but they have your playground set, so maybe there’s a child. There is a golden retriever. You would like that. Whoever these people are, they will feel the love and life in your garden that comes from your hands, sweat from your brow, and your vision, strength and love. You are in that garden, and your garden on Fairfield Road as well.  There are no words to describe how much I want you back. How much I miss you. What I am going through without you. How much I love you. 

Jennie, this morning, I was with you walking along the waterfront path, with you pushing I, your other chicks in school. You were my Mrs, walking along with your beautiful, distinctive walk and look. I was right with you, I could feel your presence. Jennie, I love you. 

Jennie, I remember when you brought your family to Victoria over the Christmas season 2015. You had lived in Qualicum Beach since September, and were now pregnant with I. You kept in touch with me on the drive down the island, and I waited at the window for you to arrive. Your van pulled up, and out came D and A. I was never so happy to see anyone as you and those kids that day. It had been such a hard time being parted from you. I had knitted the kids stuff, and D opened his snake scarf first and A was trying to be as fast as her older brother, and finally got hers opened and exclaimed ‘wow, I’ve got one too!’  That touched my heart so much. You gave me locket earrings with your picture and the two kid’s pictures inside. This was a special gift of love that I cherish.  Those kids mean the world to me, all three of them. I think about you and them everyday, and hope that wherever they are they are safe and happy and that they know I am here loving them as much as ever. Nothing...

My thoughts and dreams are in another world. I’m with Jennie and my grandchildren. I spend time exploring each person as I know them and hold my mind within their essence. I yearn for them. Jennie, I’m doing my best. I hope you can feel my love. I hope against hope my grandchildren can too. 

Jennie, I am constantly looking out at the world and seeing things and thinking, yes, but without you.  Blossoms on trees, but without you seeing them. A song you liked, but without you hearing it. Something new happening, but without you knowing about it. When the two Michaels were released, I couldn’t believe it was without you. Important and mundane, all without you. It’s unthinkable anything could be without you.  It is all without you here on earth, but Jennie, as long as I’m here I carry you with me. I wish with all my soul you were here in the flesh to be with me, and your children. But I will never let you go. Not ever. 

When Jennie was 6 and in grade one at South Park Elementary School, she walked to the Y everyday after school with a group of children and adults for after school care.  I worked across the street from the Y, and at 4:30 most days I would rush across the street to an aerobics class that lasted until 5:30. But Jennie’s care ended at 5:15, so she would be brought to the aerobics class where she would (under instructions from me), watch from a corner of the room for the last few minutes of the class.  But Jennie was a joiner from a young age and would start following the class and as she got warmed up, she would move closer and closer into the class, following the instructor and working her heart out to the music. I would give her meaningful looks to remind her that wasn’t the deal, but she would do it anyway.  God how I loved that child. She was so outgoing and adventurous, with a spunky streak of she’s going to do what she wants. So I would finish the warm down and stretch...

I can only imagine that D has outgrown his nickname. That he has matured and is holding his own in his last year in middle school. He’s endured what no child should have to.  He told me he could never forget me, because I’m his family. I very much appreciate those words.