May. 23rd, 2003 09:34 pm
Calm and death
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savvyliterateToday's been a really odd day.
First, I worked. Okay, I always work. I am what is called a "workaholic." Once again, I get into scrapes with Demopolis. But this time, I have the guts to hang up on Evelyn, the crabby 400-pound ad director with Demopolis. It was a geninue accident, but it felt good. It means I've grown stronger and I'm learning not to take so much bull from people. It was a really busy day. It seemed overwhelming at the time but now, it looks more normal.
As I drove home, I passed down the street my editor lives on. He was sitting outside with his cat in his lap. I pulled over and spent two hours sitting outside with him (and eventually his wife and daughter.) I don't think I've done that sort of thing in a very long time...sit on a front porch in the setting sun just talking. It's one of the neat charms of living in the South. That was the calm part.
When I got home, I found out that my dad had been trying to call. He usually does that about once a week to check up on me. So, I call him back and we chat for a moment. Then he says, "I also wanted to tell you that Jeannine passed away."
My heart lurched. He didn't know the circumstances, just that it happened around the 15th. My Uncle Kenny had called from Colorado to tell him. Daddy had heard that Jeannine had cervical cancer, but it had gone away. Apparently it had come back.
Jeannine was my uncle's first girlfriend. She grew up among my dad and his sibilings. The Lavey household was her second home. Whenever things were bad at her home, she came to my dad's. Everyone went their own ways when they were grown, but in 2001, Jeannine found out she had been living about a mile from my uncle in Colorado Springs for years. And she moved back to Montgomery to take care of her parents and reconnected with my dad. Then, I got to meet her.
I only saw Jeannine three times. I talked to her online a lot. She told me a lot of things I never knew - what my dad and uncle were like as kids, what my Granny was like and my Granddaddy. What was even more amazing was how accepting she was of me and my brothers instantly. We were part of her family. And I felt like she was another aunt. She never missed a chance to tell me how proud she was of me as I went through the last yrar of college and graduated. The last time I saw her was in October when Uncle Kenny was here. She was even the driving force behind his visit. I would have never thought she would be dead seven months later. She was in great health and just so energetic.
The last time I talked to her was sometime in February, through IMs. I actually slowed down enough to chat some with her and she said she was moving to Atlanta. I never heard from her again.
In the South, a lot of times with what I term the gentry, you explain to your friends that you were going away on a trip or moving somewhere when you didn't want to tell them that you were pregnant or terminally ill. My dad doesn't think Jeannine went to Atlanta at all. He thinks she went to Birmingham for treatment and died there.
I got online and found her obituary. It was in today's copy of the Montgomery Advertiser, which is why Daddy couldn't find it a few days ago. I stared at it kinda numbly and called my dad. We're going to send it to Uncle Kenny tomorrow.
I feel sad, but I can't imagine what it;s like to be my dad or Uncle Kenny right now. A huge part of their childhood has passed away - and the main link that brought my uncle back to us after so long. I don't remember if I got the chance to thank her. I hope somewhere in Heaven she can here me now. Thank you, Jeannine, for helping to bring my dad and his brother and sisters back together again. And I love you.
First, I worked. Okay, I always work. I am what is called a "workaholic." Once again, I get into scrapes with Demopolis. But this time, I have the guts to hang up on Evelyn, the crabby 400-pound ad director with Demopolis. It was a geninue accident, but it felt good. It means I've grown stronger and I'm learning not to take so much bull from people. It was a really busy day. It seemed overwhelming at the time but now, it looks more normal.
As I drove home, I passed down the street my editor lives on. He was sitting outside with his cat in his lap. I pulled over and spent two hours sitting outside with him (and eventually his wife and daughter.) I don't think I've done that sort of thing in a very long time...sit on a front porch in the setting sun just talking. It's one of the neat charms of living in the South. That was the calm part.
When I got home, I found out that my dad had been trying to call. He usually does that about once a week to check up on me. So, I call him back and we chat for a moment. Then he says, "I also wanted to tell you that Jeannine passed away."
My heart lurched. He didn't know the circumstances, just that it happened around the 15th. My Uncle Kenny had called from Colorado to tell him. Daddy had heard that Jeannine had cervical cancer, but it had gone away. Apparently it had come back.
Jeannine was my uncle's first girlfriend. She grew up among my dad and his sibilings. The Lavey household was her second home. Whenever things were bad at her home, she came to my dad's. Everyone went their own ways when they were grown, but in 2001, Jeannine found out she had been living about a mile from my uncle in Colorado Springs for years. And she moved back to Montgomery to take care of her parents and reconnected with my dad. Then, I got to meet her.
I only saw Jeannine three times. I talked to her online a lot. She told me a lot of things I never knew - what my dad and uncle were like as kids, what my Granny was like and my Granddaddy. What was even more amazing was how accepting she was of me and my brothers instantly. We were part of her family. And I felt like she was another aunt. She never missed a chance to tell me how proud she was of me as I went through the last yrar of college and graduated. The last time I saw her was in October when Uncle Kenny was here. She was even the driving force behind his visit. I would have never thought she would be dead seven months later. She was in great health and just so energetic.
The last time I talked to her was sometime in February, through IMs. I actually slowed down enough to chat some with her and she said she was moving to Atlanta. I never heard from her again.
In the South, a lot of times with what I term the gentry, you explain to your friends that you were going away on a trip or moving somewhere when you didn't want to tell them that you were pregnant or terminally ill. My dad doesn't think Jeannine went to Atlanta at all. He thinks she went to Birmingham for treatment and died there.
I got online and found her obituary. It was in today's copy of the Montgomery Advertiser, which is why Daddy couldn't find it a few days ago. I stared at it kinda numbly and called my dad. We're going to send it to Uncle Kenny tomorrow.
I feel sad, but I can't imagine what it;s like to be my dad or Uncle Kenny right now. A huge part of their childhood has passed away - and the main link that brought my uncle back to us after so long. I don't remember if I got the chance to thank her. I hope somewhere in Heaven she can here me now. Thank you, Jeannine, for helping to bring my dad and his brother and sisters back together again. And I love you.
