Rifles for Jack, Roses for Judy.
It was June, this last year when we lost Jack. Three months later we said goodbye to Judy.
I remember getting the phone call from my sister. I was in Billings, visiting a man I consider my brother. I remember sitting down next to him, stunned.
It wasn’t until the funeral that grief finally crept in. The surreal feeling of wandering in late and sitting down in back. We all stepped outside after the general service for second. I stopped and stood next to my father. The shock of three rifles, firing in sequence rang the air, and the tears started falling.
With Judy, it was softer. I received the first message that she had been hospitalized while standing on top of a mountain on the Idaho border. For me the question was lingering since Jack had passed: “How much longer would Judy last?”
Judy was one of only a few people in the world to sport an artificial heart. That strong woman had fought off breast cancer to become one of the world’s first battery powered cyborgs. From what I’ve been told, she was eternally grateful and incredibly proud of new heart. She even spoke to medical students around the country, letting them listen to her now whirring heart.
It was nearly a month after that we held Judy’s service. An old friend of Judy’s told the family a story of the two as young women. Judy shared a chocolate and eloquently spoke: take a bite, and let it melt, slowly. Her friend preceded her reminiscence, by handing each of the family members yellow roses.
The family concentrated again sometime after. All of us meeting at Jack and Judys home. Before I left I said goodbye to each of my cousins, holding each of them briefly, before at last coming to my Aunt Jeanne - Judys twin. As I held held her last, I was struck with the realization - This is the last I will ever step foot in this house.
Growing up, my family was chaotic. My parents fought constantly, until finally separating when I was 10; But, Jack and Judy’s was a safe space. Despite my parent’s drama, my sister and I could always look forward to Christmas at my Aunt and Uncles places. Even after my parents ended their marriage, this place remained a bastion for me and my sister. We lived here on and off with my father for a time. Sleeping in the basement and sharing a bed with him while he found his bearing again.
Hell, I’m not sure many people know this. When my parents were separated, my mother developed an ulcer. I woke after midnight one evening to a dark house and her crying out in pain from a closed bathroom door. With my dad not around, I called my aunt Judy. She rushed over in the night to pull my mother, dying from blood-loss on the bathroom floor, and get her to the hospital, effectively saving her life. For some time after, my mother was in intensive care, regaining her strength, and occasionally receiving visits from my sis, me, and my father.
It’s strange to think I’ll never visit a place again, that once served as a stronghold.
As we approach the end of October, we enter the All Saints Eve, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day. A time of remembrance and honor for those loved and lost. In the last 9 years, I’ve lost 10 of my close friends and family. Six in 2009, two in 2017, and two in 2017. I’ve chosen to spend this year to remember the lessons they taught me. To reflect upon our shared time, vitality, and heritage. To honor their lives. To pay them tribute. - Taken at Hillcrest Memorial Chapel, before stepping out for Jack’s military service.
