Guest Post from Kristin Cleage

Prologue: On the day of my niece's funeral, a facebook friend and blogger, Kristin Cleage, published this poem about her mother. It spoke to me, in a way few poems ever speak to me. With her permission, I am reposting it here, along with a link to her page.

Credit: Kristin Cleage  https://ruffdraftsite.wordpress.com/2018/05/20/my-mother/

One More Day - Julie Theresa Jones

The Dan and Carol Jones Family
Photo Credit: Mark Jones

Background: At the service celebrating Julie's life, her mother, Carol, shared the things she would have said to Julie if she'd known they only had one more day together. As a tribute to Julie, Carol wore a pair of pink Crocs, Julie's favorite footwear. Carol was supported by her two sons, Chris and Greg, who also shared wonderful memories of Julie and her admirable courage as she tackled life head on.

Carol's Letter to Julie

You all have no idea what it means to us that you are here. Julie would be so touched and so happy to see you. Thank you.

I have all of these thoughts and feelings about our daughter that I’d like to share with you, but really what might be more meaningful is if I read to you what I would have liked to tell Julie, if I just had known that I only had one more day with her. So here goes:

My dear precious daughter: How do I even begin to tell you how completely broken I am that you are no longer here with me? But you know that.  How do I even begin to tell you how much I love you and adore you? But you know that. And how do I even begin to tell you how afraid I am to not have my BFF in my life anymore, to not know what I’m going to do now without you, each and every day? But I know that you know that too.

I don’t know Jul- I guess it was just your time to be returned to Him. He loaned you to us for 34 precious years, and He decided that he needed you back. I will accept that. But I don’t like it.

Did I ever tell you how you made me giggle inside every time you refused to put on decent shoes when we went out? And instead you wore those ridiculous Crocs? It didn’t matter if we were going to the most formal event of the year. You would have on a beautiful outfit and then some clunky, multicolored Crocs.

Did I ever tell you how you drove me completely insane with your refusal to clean out your car more that once a year? And please do not even get me started on your bedroom. Your idea of “cleaned up” and mine were definitely on two opposite ends of the spectrum.

And goodness that tip money from Jimmy John’s. I’ve never known anyone to run around on a daily basis with what appeared to me to be at least $600 cash in their purse. It did not matter how many times I would ask you to please put the money in the bank, that you would most certainly get mugged. You just looked at me, rolled your eyes, said something along the lines of “Mother!” and then just did whatever you wanted anyway. Why did I waste my breath?

Did I ever tell you that had it been me lying in the hospital bed at the age of 14, two brain surgeries later, flat on my back, unable to raise my head, that I’m fairly certain I would have given up? You gave me a whole new understanding of the word “fighter”. And then to have to go through a series of chemo treatments, the ensuing sickness, hair loss, and embarrassment of starting high school bald and now very heavy. Did I tell you about the time you’re your father almost murdered a patron at Tellers for mocking your obesity a year or so after your treatments? I nearly had to drag him out of the restaurant.

Did I tell you in those early years after your treatments how many nights I cried myself to sleep because I knew that your life moving forward would never be “normal” again? I prayed to God to “just please, somehow let it be me instead”. But that just wasn’t in the plan.

Did I tell you how unbelievably proud I was to see my daughter walk across that stage at Cincinnati State and receive her associates degree? I told everybody I knew, whether they wanted to hear it or not, about my daughter, what she overcame and how she pushed through day by day to get this college degree? I was just busting at the seams! (Of course, what I didn’t tell them was how you were ready to murder me on multiple occasions throughout that time for “making you” -in your words- get the degree).

I’m pretty sure I never told you that you were the focus of any decision Dad and I ever made about where to go on our next vacation: “Would Julie enjoy this? How much walking would be required, and could she handle it? Are there plenty of things for her to do there? Will she be bored?” I’m sorry, boys, but as you guys always told me: ”Julie was the princess”. And gosh, didn’t we have the most awesome trips together? You were our vacation girl. Those smiles, that laughter. You always started packing about a week ahead of time. That tickled me too. Remember when you and I had the idiotic idea of getting our hair corn-rowed in Mexico? It hurt and itched like crazy and then our heads got so sunburnt! Remember how your dad and you and I really thought we were going to be able to get up that hill on our bikes on Mackinac? What a joke that turned out to be. How long did it actually take for the three of us to walk our bikes up that hill? And I’m pretty sure we were all half sick the rest of the day.

Did I ever tell you that your often completely inappropriate sarcasm and blunt remarks would make me laugh so hard that I almost wet my pants? (Now, this is after I recovered from the shock of what you just said in front of everybody and then had time to process). Dad and I later would compare notes, and say to each other: Oh my God, did she really say that out loud?

And if you said it once you said it a hundred times: “Yes I will go to Coopers Hawk Winery with you and Dad for dinner, but I am not driving you guys home!” (Those of you who do not know this, Julie would not touch one single drop of alcohol).

And on the note of your personal morals and values, Julie girl- did I ever tell you how, honest to goodness, your Dad and I looked up to you for your strong sense of right and wrong, your complete inflexibility and intolerance of anything remotely resembling immorality or sketchiness. When you went to work, you were always early, you never called in sick and you did not abide well with those folks at work who were slackers.

Did I ever mention that I thanked God constantly for the fact that whenever I was sick, or post-surgery, that I had you around to help me recover and get back on my feet? Once again, Jul, you showed me what it meant to be compassionate, to be there for someone who truly needed it. (And between you and me, I was pretty sure if it had just been Dad, I would have been in really bad shape.)

And speaking of Dad, I need to tell you something. You do not want to hear this but honey, you and dad are most definitely cut from the same cloth. I do not think you ever figured out before you left us, that the reason you two butted heads so often was because you and Dad are little carbon copies of one another. Sorry honey. He loved you more than life itself. I know that you did not always think that, because like you, your father is one stubborn tough cookie. But every single solitary thing he ever said or did was to help you grow and be a better version of yourself. You were his life, Julie. Believe that. 

You know my sweet girl, I could go on and on with the memories I have and the little things and the big things that I should have said to you.

But in a nutshell, you were the focus of my entire life, my Julie girl. I worried about you, I prayed for you, I thought about you every hour of every day since the minute you were born. You were my best friend in the entire world. We chilled together every evening and every weekend. It was uncanny how -more often than not- you would come down in the morning with a shirt and pants the exact same color as mine. Dad would remark: “here you guys go again”. You finished my sentences and I finished yours. You could predict what I was feeling before I ever spoke it out loud. It was like you were inside my head most of the time.

My daughter, I know with certainty that you’re with our Lord now. And I know with certainty that you are so happy, and carefree and you have that boundless energy that I remember so well from your younger years. You no longer have to take 12 medicines a day just to feel a semblance of normalcy. You are dancing, and swinging on the swings, and doing your puzzles with your grandmothers, and laughing that deep hearty chuckle that always filled my heart to bursting. Baby girl, thank you thank you thank you for changing my life forever. I love you Julie.

Julie Theresa Jones

In celebration of the life of Julie Theresa Jones
August 17, 1983 - May 17, 2018

Julie was special. Born the only daughter of my brother, Dan, and his wife, Carol, she was destined to be the middle child with brothers on either side. Life for Julie was "normal" in every way as she grew into a teenager. At the age of 14, Julie started experiencing headaches, which led to the unfortunate diagnosis of a brain tumor. Despite two surgeries, radiation and chemotherapy,  doctors were not able to totally remove it, and it clearly had an impact on her life.

But that's not what I want to discuss. Julie died, unexpectedly, at the age of 34, probably due to adrenal insufficiency -- a side effect of her brain tumor which compromised her adrenal gland. It was shocking to all of us, as she seemed to be doing so well.

Despite her challenges, Julie was working as a delivery person for Jimmy John's at the time of her death. Due to the wonderful support she has always received from her immediate family, Julie was able to pack more in her life than most of us manage to accomplish in a much longer life span. She had received her Associate Degree from Cincinnati State. She had traveled the world, often as the result of her brother's job which took him to Germany, Colorado, Thailand and D.C. Although she still lived with her mother and father, she lived rather independently in her own suite including two bedrooms and a living area. She was able to travel to the Smoky Mountains (a favorite destination) and traveled to Thailand by way of China completely on her own.

Many family vacations were planned with Julie's needs in mind. Last year, she, her parents, her Uncle Tim and Aunt Dusty, and her Aunt Karen and cousin, Michael, went on the trip of a lifetime to Alaska.

Michael, Karen, Julie, Carol, Dan, Dusty and Tim, 2017 Trip to Alaska

After the initial shock of Julie's passing, her brother, Greg, gathered photos of Julie which ended up taking 75 minutes to view. Her Aunt Kath made a short video of Julie with her family, illustrating the huge role she played in the Jones family over the years.

No one post can do her justice. At the service celebrating Julie's life, her mother, Carol, gave a wonderful talk discussing what she would have liked to tell Julie if she had one more day with her precious daughter and best friend. This was followed up with remembrances of Julie offered by her brothers, Chris and Greg. With Carol's permission, I am reprinting Carol's thoughts in the next post.

Video Link:  http://www.photoshow.com/watch/xN5mq5MZ