8 Years

It's hard to believe it's been 8 years since I talked to Jenni for the last time.  She was getting a dog and called to see if we had any puppy supplies she could have since Stella was now 3 years old.  Audrey's daycare was also selling wrapping paper for a fundraiser, so we talked about that too.  When my mother-in-law called me 30 minutes later, I thought it was to talk about the wrapping paper.  Instead, she told me that Jenni had been in a car accident and they didn't know if she'd be ok.

After the initial stun wore off, we loaded Audrey, the dogs and ourselves in the car and left for Greenville.  I won't go into all of the painful details, but it was the longest 40 minute car ride of my life.  With each minute that passed from the last phone call with his parents, our hearts sunk deeper and deeper.  We were still a ways out when we finally called his dad and got the heartbreaking news.

That whole evening is still so vivid in my memory.  Part of me wants to forget, but part of me wants to remember.  I want to remember her, and since I won't have any more moments with her here on earth, remembering those first moments when I found out seems like something I should do.  And, when I look back on that night, as I sort through the memories of the feelings, the people, the questions...I am struck every time by all of the ways that God was there and continues to be there.

There are so many things that happened that aren't my story to tell: the way my in-laws found out about the accident, the flat tire they got on the way there, the people that came out to show their love and support to the whole family.  These stories are illustrate how God loved and cared for us in those moments of the most intense pain. Since those aren't my experiences, I'll focus on the ones that are mine.

First, I was supposed to go to a sorority alumnae chapter meeting that night.  If you know me, you know that I am the type of woman who doesn't like to back down from my commitments. But, that night, I chose not to go.  I remember Billy asking me why I wasn't going, and I didn't have a real reason.  I didn't realize it then, but now I can clearly see that the Holy Spirit was compelling me to stay home.  I needed to be there with my husband that night.

Next was the fact that I had talked to Jenni that night.  I didn't talk to her on the phone a lot. But, God knew I needed that moment to remember.  So many other moments I took for granted, but as soon as I got that phone call from Lana, I started cementing that last conversation with Jenni in my mind.  The last thing she said to me was "I love you," and I was too embarrassed to boldly just say "I love you" back to her.  So, I just said, "you too."  That moment has forever changed the way I approach conversations and people in general.  I am much more bold with telling my friends and family I love them (in a brotherly, sisterly love kind of way).  I want to make sure they know.  I don't want them to question if they're loved, and I don't want to have to question if they know how much I care about them.  When we lost Jenni, I finally got it, and I stopped caring about looking foolish.

The last example I'll mention is one that shows me how God can make good come of any situation.  Losing Jenni was awful, but somehow, through the horrible process of grieving and figuring out how our family looked with out her, the family grew in an unexpected way (and I'm not talking about the 2 babies I've had in the past 8 years).  You see, before Jenni died, my parents and in-laws were friends.  They would hang out from time to time, and since we all love the lake, there were weekends where we'd all be at the lake together.  However, during those first few years after Jenni died, without anyone realizing it was happening, the two families became one.  It really is extraordinary.  Even my brother, his wife and daughter are just part of the tribe.  The beauty of the whole thing is that Jenni believed in loving people well.  She was always defending people that were different from her.  She would force the people around her to open their hearts and minds to be more inclusive.  She would've been so happy to see how these families have merged, to be part of all of the chaos, and to stir the pot from time to time.

As much as I wish Jenni was still here and that I could pick up the phone and talk to her about our dogs and all of the crazy things they're doing, I am grateful for the time that I did know Jenni and how she loved us so well.