Jayne, you are still very much in my heart; you will always be. Today, a year after your passing, I am remembering your laughter, your genorosity, your playfulness. Always, always thinking of others. Miss you!

There's magic in a mother's touch,
And sunshine in her smile.
There's love in everything she does
To make our lives worhtwhile.
We can find both hope and courage
Just by looking in her eyes.
Her laughter is a source of joy,
Her words are warm and wise.
There is kindness  and compassion
To be found in her embrace.
And we see the light of Heaven
Shining from a mother's face.

Jayne is looking down on all of us now. 

When we read this poem we think of Jayne.
 Thomas, Tamara, Simone and Stefan.

In recounting family stories, there is an inherent risk of becoming only mildly interesting, or possibly verbose and/or maudlin. Nevertheless, these little family histories and vignettes provide a link to the past and a reference for the future.  So at the risk of being all of the aforementioned let me describe what it felt like being Jayne's in-law.

Now first of all, there is a dubious nature to the term “in-law” when it's all said and done.  While it provides a legal reference, is an in-law really part of the family? Or maybe not quite. With Jayne (and Doug for that matter) it's a resounding, yes! We were - we are – embraced as family; and this was something about which Jayne was very clear. 



I remember some years ago, Lisa, Jayne and I were in my kitchen involved in food prep for one of our many (although clearly not enough) gatherings of friends and family.  I'd like to think it was the annual Labor Day Cook Off, since that was one of Jayne’s favorites - “the end of the summer celebration” although as I remember, it was fairly quiet at the time and nothing is relaxed or quiet during the cook off!

As I recall, one of my friends popped into the kitchen; someone I realized never had met Jayne or Lisa. After proffering introductions, I said, “You know, um… sister in law doesn’t really cut it.” A little explanation here.  Lisa is married to my brother Christopher, so she’s my sister-in-law but technically (at least legally) I suppose Jayne wouldn’t be. Jayne just dimpled up as she was wont to do, gathered the three of us together in a group hug and said, “We’re just sisters.” And we toasted to the truth of that moment. Truthfulness - that was simply Jayne’s nature. 

So we were family… which also by it’s very nature brings it’s own complexities and personalities – some quite strong.

And as it happens, Uncle Hossain, my husband, upon occasion tends to be rather opinionated about things… and with a Middle Eastern background at times can take the role of elder rather seriously. And despite the somewhat stern countenance “King Hossain” might have, Auntie Jayne was never daunted one bit, despite a bit of Persian bluster.  When Uncle Hossain would aver something with which she disagreed, Auntie Jayne would generally begin something like this (sweetly, of course)“Now, Hossain, I don’t think so…” and, a woman of strong convictions herself, would proceed to explain why whatever it was just wasn’t so.  The two of them could go head to head occasionally, and sometimes ended up walking off in a huff (only a mild one, mind you, and never very long or serious) but always ended up laughing with each other later.  Going up against Uncle took tenacity – that too, was Jayne’s nature. 

Indeed, it was Auntie Jayne’s habit to be tenderly tenacious while delivering truth to those she loved – something evidenced never more clearly less than three weeks ago at our “end of summer celebration.”

This year, we scaled back what had become a huge event, to just immediate family.  Auntie Jayne, obviously in the last stages of her illness, knew that one of my young adult children was experiencing one of those challenging times that life brings to all of us. She took me aside and told me that there was something she really wanted to say to this hurting child of mine and asked, tenderly, if I thought it was okay.  I replied, “Auntie Jayne, I believe that you should speak your truth.” "I just needed to be sure," she smiled. 

Sometime later in the evening, I saw my dear sister, gently holding her niece, and speaking softly to her.  What she said is unimportant to this story – but when and why she shared her wisdom is. Auntie Jayne had something she needed to share with someone she loved.  You see, even at a time when others in her situation might well only be focusing on themselves, Jayne was concerned about someone else, her message, her hope for her niece tenderly and lovingly delivered. Tenderness... that was, too was part of Jayne's nature.

These are only some of the memories we will cherish.  And we will remember them… Today, in most of our waking moments we remember, we grieve. In the future, perhaps a tender breeze will bring a scent we recognize from long ago that reminds us of our beloved auntie, sister, wife, mother, friend. A special song, a sip of wine, a dimpled smile will bring her once again sharply into focus.  And we will always remember.