DRT, Pinterest & Neverland

I haven’t pinned since you have been gone.  It will be a year next week.  What I mean by pinned is I can’t log into Pinterest and start adding cool things to my Pinterest boards without thinking of you and missing your own pins, your sense of humor, sense of style and the clear definition of your astrological sign, Cancer.  You’d send me pins all the time with one click on a paper airplane button always brightening my day.
I logged on to Pinterest earlier this week.  You had been on my mind and I’m running out of things to repost from your Facebook page to your daughter, parents, husband, and friends/family.  I thought, “I’ll go to Pinterest and find things that you loved and tap into those interests to keep reminding your family of you and your love for them”.  Not that they will ever forget the sassy firecracker you were.
Anyways, I logged on and began perusing your boards.  I was overwhelmed and quickly it became hard to breathe.  I remembered your board for your boys – your fight for autism, titled Autism Wonders.  It was still there full of your intent to make your children even more amazing then they already were.  Your Shoe Madness with the awesome cowboy boots; Eye Candy; Pretty in Pink; your eye for interior decorating; Death by Fitness – a clear reflection of your dislike of exercise—which was always annoying as you were always skinnier than me; the reminder that right or wrong, we both loved the F word.
I discovered more things I missed before you left.  Your board, Princess Quite-a-Lot.  My mama called me that for years.  Why didn’t I see this board before?  Garden Greatness – one of your favorite past times; Baubles and Bling – a reminder that the ring I bought you for your birthday was on your right hand the day of your funeral and that I have the same identical ring – one for you and one for me.  I knew you would approve.  Your fetish for ink, the beach and expensive handbags.  Last but not least, Southern Class – we don’t drink….we just sip a lot.  Your boards for knitting and quilting – a clear reflection of your mama and your 50th anniversary board which I imagine was in anticipation of your parent’s anniversary.  So many different sides to my dear cousin and friend.
We met late in life for cousins.  It was 2010 at the Jolley Family Reunion in Lubbock, TX.  There was an instant connection which kept us in touch across several states.  When my mama got sick, you were our biggest fan.  When my marriage took a total dump, you were there for me – on the phone, sending care packages, flying out at any excuse to be there for me – especially for my mother’s funeral when my life was in a pivotal place that honestly no one knew of but you.  You carried my secret with class never letting on that you knew a
thing.  I was able to return the favor to a certain degree – I was able to be there for you during difficult times, but nothing could have ever prepared me for your sudden loss and the reality that there was nothing I could do to fix it.
I reflect on loved ones I have lost.  It’s one thing to die from old age.  While it is never easy, it is part of the circle of life.  When my son died at 2.5 months of age he was not expected to die, but he was very sick and there were lots of unknowns.  This death was a long recovery process, but it was processed and life did go on.  My other two favorite cousins – Bob and Anne – again very difficult.  I was able to process my loss for Bob at his funeral.  It was a wonder I wasn’t physically removed, I was a mess.  Anne – I could only send her off as I did in the cupcake pajamas you bought me and her very own rubber chicken purse.  Her loss was great, but she lived her life to the fullest.
I realized while sitting at my computer on Pinterest, that I never processed your loss.  Cristy and I booked flights immediately still reeling from the news that “My Dawn was gone.”  In Jolley God Squad fashion, we arrived in caretaker mode and we left in caretaker mode.  Not that that made us so special, it’s just what we do.  I think I have been in caretaker mode ever since- a strange twist of fate in connecting with your parents and your Ashton and attempting to make their lives a little less painful and to try and bring a smile and a song to their days.  Valerie, too.  You were surrounded by so many that loved you.
So, now I try to process this loss.  Honestly, you must have been so pissed to be called home so early.  I firmly believe this is why you hung on for those three days.  You kept being pulled to the other side and you kept coming back using all the sass that you had.  I take heart in knowing that you were there with Cristy and me the day of your funeral.  You literally scrambled the map quest application in our rental car; toyed with the dials on the interior of our car (including the windshield wiper blades both front and back).  You made us late to your own funeral in which we arrived at locked doors and had to place our ears to the window in the door to listen to your friends and family tell your stories to a packed room.
You then created quite the scene in the parking lot which required police intervention while we attempted to sip (a lot) our post-funeral alcohol out of the back of cousin, Carla’s, SUV.   We then ended up having to take a detoured route to another post reception which involved dropping off a crazy woman with her infant son and flying through the toll lanes without a fast track breaking the law every 3-5 miles trying to keep up with the police vehicle that we were following.
If that wasn’t enough, you scrambled both Cristy’s and my alarm clocks the following morning which resulted in us waking up out of a scene from Four weddings and a Funeral, realizing we had overslept, looked at each other and yelled, “F!@K”, throwing our clothes into our luggage bags, more law breaking through toll lanes, looking like Thelma and Louise, flying through the airport barefoot catching our plane with minutes to spare.  Your dissatisfaction was clear.
How are you now, dear one?   God must be keeping you really really busy and He must have come up with something spectacular as a trade.  Maybe it is a real life Pinterest board – one where when you place a pin for Autism Wonders and you see your growing boys making strides in their personal development.  You place a pin in your quilting board and your mama delivers me a homemade cupcake potholder and cupcake themed pillow case for my birthday.  You place a pin in the 50th Anniversary board while your parents were in Europe last fall.  You placed a pin in your Death by Exercise board and I dropped five pounds.  By the way – you can keep pinning on that board.  You place a pin on your Garden Greatness and your son catches a goose in your favorite spot – your own backyard.  Your Quotes board reminds your friends and family, your husband the intricate persona of who you were.
There are so many songs that remind me of you.  When I see you again (Wiz Khalifa), anything by Coldplay or One Republic.  The most recent song – Lost Boys.  The lyrics aren’t quite perfect – you were so very loved and, no you were not lost.  However, you always believed in magic.  Lost Boys is a song about being different, being a dreamer — a story about believing in magic.
I miss your magic, DRT.
Click on link below for Video of Lost Boys.

3 thoughts on “DRT, Pinterest & Neverland

  1. Eli Pacheco

    Wow. I didn’t know your cousin/friend, of course. But holy hell, I feel like I did after reading this. When we suffer a loss of someone like her, there’s an indelible void left in that person’s shape that nothing else can fill. No one else can fill. So we learn to live with it, and even though they don’t fill the space, that’s where we keep the memories and songs and pins, apparently.

    Honest and powerful, the story and the storyteller. So glad I avoided work right now and read this!


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