This post is to memorialize Jackie, who was killed last Thursday in a wet weather car accident. I went to her memorial yesterday afternoon, and it hit me. Instead of a rowdy "Heeeyyyyy Guuurrrrrrllllllllll" in her thick as peanut butter on Wonderbread drawl, I see her, a deflated Jackie balloon. No more grousing about this or that, no more pleasantries shouted across the parking lot. Oh Jackie, I am sorry.
Crystal did a good job with her mama's hair and make-up, I am surprised she managed to do it at all. I saw her darling son-gosh, he'll be a looker, I hope this won't send him into Stupidland. He's only 16.
Somehow, and I truly believe this, I think Jackie's heart and her personality were too big to turn off suddenly, like a well gone dry. I think she'll be around to peek in on the kids. Her messages won't be delivered in a cheerful bull-doggin' yell; I think they will be in little breaths, the kind that stir dust into sudden tiny vortexes late on summer afternoons.
Jackie, it's been a pleasure knowing you. I wouldn't have prayed so hard for rain if I had known you were the price we'd pay for it.