Just Me - AmeliaJake

So, Quentin, Happy Birthday

July 6, 2011 AmeliaJake 2 Comments

You see, I have posted no baby pictures to embarrass you. That seems out of character, doesn’t it? Do you suppose the urge will strike me tomorrow or next week?

Just Me - AmeliaJake

And so now?

July 6, 2011 AmeliaJake

Sydney’s was a link to so many things – Quentin and I got him when he was six months old. As a puppy he would run around at full speed and then jump on the bed and fall over 90 degrees in one unified motion. The first time he did it, it scared me . . . but he had just decided time for a nap.

He was in Little Ann’s shadow a lot, but I think he kind of used it to get his own special attention. He shared milestone moments with me, including the last lucid periods of my parents’ lives. He was there with me as life happened around me. He was sitting by me when I picked up my phone and learned in April that my husband’s niece had died. I sat there stunned and he cocked his head back and forth trying to understand.

I don’t know what I thought he was – some divine link holding parts of my life together? He always got better when he was sick . . . and then this weekend he didn’t get sick – he had a catastrophic failure and he stopped. And that was that.

But, Sydney, you were a part of my life that spanned my world changing and now you are gone and I feel alone. So, what now?

I guess I’ll just post about some little things and not wander into that area where I think: “Gee, what would happen if I pulled this switch, turned this knob, opened that door?”

Baby Steps. Ah, see, Sydney, I have not lost my humor . . . Bill Murray, dontcha know.

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These last couple of posts have been in the font I’ve always had, but the ones before somehow morphed into a stronger one. I have no idea why. Well, I tried to update WordPress and they said, ACH, nein, my little fraulein, your server is not supporting PHP 5.2 so you are in maintenance mode. One thing led to another and I was advised to click a certain box in the PHPconfigure part of the control panel.

Now, I have this situation, which isn’t anything at all – except I’m thinking maybe I like the stronger font better. I think I’ll let it ride for awhile. Who knows what evil lurks in the code of a blog.

***Jody Lynn Vance: 1985-2011***

Jody was born at sunrise on a bright, sunny, cold, snowy Groundhog’s Day and from Day One she was a gift to everyone around her. Her infectious laugh and rambunctious spirit made her the center of attention where ever she happened to be.

She and her Dad would watch Sesame Street and sing at the top of our voices (and quite out of key) all of the songs. She enjoyed having Mom fix her hair so it was fancy and just right.

As a toddler she had quite an impressive vocabulary and often had a lot to say. One time Dad was headed out the door to go to work and she pointed her finger and said, “No. No. No. Don’t go anywhere!“

Jody was very seldom crabby, always happy and she wasted no time in spreading that joy to everyone around her. Jody’s favorite place was to be perched on the lap of Mom or Dad or playing with her toys spread out all over the floor. Jody was always affectionate, wanting hugs and “moochies” as she called smooches on the cheek.

At around two, Jody’s illness began to attack her. It took a beautiful, innocent child and put her through untold pain and suffering,

I know that through all of that she was not afraid. She had the heart and spirit of lion. She never gave up; time after countless time, she would open her eyes and there would come that smile. Jody lost her speech, but never was at a loss for words. She could say more with a look or a half smile than most people do yakking all day long.

After numerous doctor, hospital, and specialist visits, we were given the news of her illness. I remember that moment frozen in time … it was as if the entire world stopped. It was in that brief moment we both knew that we must make the very most of the time we had remaining together and not dwell on the despair of all of the things that would never be.

Jody was not expected to live more than three or so - but she had too many things to do and stories to tell, so she cruised by that birthday and over two more decades of birthdays, Christmases and millions of smiles and hugs. Jody was well-liked by other kids; once when she was being wheeled into her classroom at Handicare, one of the children yelled, “Hey everybody, Jody’s here” and all the kids cheered.

Two of the biggest joys in her life were her two little brothers, Joey and Sammy. She would just beam with joy when they would sit next to her and when they began to get older she’d love to listen to them running through the house and playing together. The two of them would start laughing and Jody would laugh right along with them. She would listen intently to everything they did and they would include her as often as they could. The three of them loved watching Saturday morning cartoons and The Three Stooges.

Joe and Sam did without a lot of things that other kids had, did and took for granted … and they never once complained or were resentful of the way things were. That shows a special kind of love and a special kind of family.

As the years went by and the boys grew up into strong and healthy, Jody’s health slowly and steadily declined. She would have long stretches where she was fairly stable and then would become so very ill.

Many times we were sure the end was near and then she would open those sparkling blue eyes and stretch just like nothing had happened at all.

Once she was in the hospital with her usual bout of pneumonia and lapsed into a coma; this went on for 8 days. One Dr. came in, examined her and just shook his head. Later that night Jody’s eyes popped open and she was refreshed from her cat- nap.

People over the years have commented, ”I don’t know how you do it. ”This always struck me as odd. My thoughts would always be: How could you even think of turning your back on someone who needs you that much?

It was always our promise to Jody that she would always live at home with her family and I think she found comfort in knowing that.

But, no one person can take the credit for caring for this wonderful young woman. It has taken an army of doctors, nurses, teachers, aides, pharmacists, friends, and family over the years to maintain Jody at home, and we could never begin to thank you enough.

Jody always kept her head held high and never seemed to be afraid; she has truly been my inspiration on many occasions. When things were gloomy and seemed hopeless, just one smile and a hug was all I needed to go on. Jody will always be my hero. I love her and will treasure the time we had together.

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