Empty Chairs, Empty Tables...and an Empty Stocking

Happy Christmas Eve! 2019 has been a year filled with highs (the wedding of Will & Michelle comes to mind) and lows. As so often happens in life, it takes a holiday or special occasion to bring life's changes into full view. This Christmas season was already very difficult, doing so many things we used to with Lisa Jewett without her for the first time. But it is also the first Christmas with Will not at home and with Michelle as his wife. Most of you know I have never been someone who feared change. But today, right now, I have to say enough already!

For most of the past 5 years, our Christmas Eve began at Steak'N'Shake eating breakfast with Michelle while she worked. Lisa would join us, and the 5 of us would do our own little gift exchange right there in the restaurant. This year, Will is also working at Olive Garden- a 12 hour day! So missing breakfast is not the only change to our traditions. A normal Jones Christmas Eve would consist of us going to a Candlelight Service at church, followed by a hot dog (with chili and slaw!) dinner and a watching of A Muppet Christmas Carol. Marilyn and I will still go to church, but the hot dogs and Muppets will now wait until tomorrow when Will and Michelle can join us. The empty chairs and empty tables are making what was already difficult feel very, very sad. It is a day when I should be proclaiming JOY TO THE WORLD but I confess to it being a struggle.

And then there is the empty stocking. On Christmas Day 2015 Lisa was in the hospital, and after our family opened our presents that morning I went to see her. I had picked up this cool Snoopy stocking for $1.99 at Walgreen's the night before and lots of junk to fill it up. I just didn't want her to miss Christmas. For the following 3 years, I kept the same stocking and filled it each Christmas, usually giving it to her on Boxing Day. The gifts got better each year, but that didn't really matter to Lisa. She told me after the second time that she couldn't remember the last time anyone had done a stocking for her, and that it was her favorite part of Christmas. So I have the stocking out this year, and for most of the season, seeing it made me smile as my mind flooded with great memories. But today- knowing I have nothing to put in it, knowing it will continue to be empty- it just makes me miss her even more. Add the empty stocking to the empty chairs and empty tables and it is hard to feel merry about much of anything today.

Tomorrow is the day we celebrate the birth of the Christ child. It's the day we remember that HOPE came into the world, and that LOVE came down so we could all understand what love really means.  Tomorrow I will be ok, as the family gathers and we remember the promise of Christmas. But my word for today is empty. I know I am not alone in that feeling, and for any of you who are hurting and feel loss during this season, you have my prayers. May we all find the HOPE that came that first Christmas.

Peace be with you,

Carl

Apple Pie

Today is Lisa Jewett's 55th birthday, and so it will be a hard day for her family and friends, and especially for me. But I want to share a happy story, so I'm going to talk about apple pie! At some point during the time Lisa lived with us following her surgery and during her initial chemo treatments in 2015-2016 she began craving warm apple pie with vanilla ice cream, so Publix and I provided it for her. Quite often! Those cravings went away for a few years, but in early 2019 returned and we often went to The Village Inn after her weekly chemo for apple pie- and a caramel sauce drizzle. She loved her apple pie. But that's not really what I came to talk about today...

Sometime around 2013, a group of us were having dinner at Longhorn Steakhouse. At some point, a birthday was celebrated near us, and the servers did their version of happy birthday, which is more of a chant than a song. It goes, "Fried chicken, country hog, it's your birthday, HOT DOG!"  Lisa had never heard it before and just loved it. A few days later she called, saying she was trying to remember the words and wondering (as always) if I could help. I told her the words, and her end of the phone went silent for a moment. Then she told me that I was wrong because she was certain the chant included the words "apple pie." I repeated the chant (with confidence) only to be told once again that I was incorrect. She spent a great deal of time over the following weeks trying to figure out just where her beloved apple pie fit, but with no luck. When we finally returned to the restaurant she was certain she would be vindicated. As luck would have it an adjacent table was celebrating and the chant was performed. They finished- with no apple pie. But our Lisa was not to be denied. As the servers began to disperse she yelled out, "APPLE PIE!" As so often happened when she and I were together, we broke out in loud laughter and almost no one else understood. From that point on, almost anytime we were anywhere and anyone was singing a birthday song, at the end we would look at each other, grin and say, "APPLE PIE!"

So if you are like me and you are missing Lisa today on her birthday, break out your favorite birthday song for her. And don't forget to finish it off with some apple pie...

Carl

Farewell, Lisa

My friend Lisa Jewett passed away early Saturday morning September 14, 2019- her heroic 4-year struggle with ovarian cancer finally at an end. My friend Lisa. Even as I typed those words the word "friend" seems overwhelmingly and heartbreakingly insufficient. In truth, there is no single word that describes what Lisa and I shared- but I shall attempt to tell you our story.

By August of 2015, Lisa was already a part of our family. She, Marilyn and I had dinner together as often as 3 or 4 times each week. Lisa and Marilyn were Disney buddies, often including our son Will and his girlfriend Michelle. And Lisa and I had become very close. We talked and texted often. We were keepers of each other's secrets. A very special bond developed between us. So when she came to my house one afternoon to tell me she had been diagnosed with cancer and was going to Moffitt Cancer Center to have it confirmed, I was devastated. She sat on my couch and we both cried. She told me her greatest fear was having to go through the fight she faced alone. I promised her then and there she would never be alone. "Always and forever, no matter what." And I spent the last 4 years keeping that promise.

Many people know that I went with her to almost every appointment, every chemo treatment, and every emergency room visit. I stayed nights with her in the hospital after her surgery and on many other occasions. She lived with Marilyn and me for several months as she recovered. I was her nurse, giving her shots and treating her incision. I was her cook as we tried to find foods that tasted good and didn't upset her system. And I was her friend as we watched TV and took walks and tried to guess what the future might hold. After she moved back to her home I was still her lunch buddy, her Uber driver, and her emergency contact. I was at the hospital with her when she had her gallbladder removed in the Spring of 2016.  And right through the end of her life, I was by her side every chance I got. I will be forever grateful to her son Ken and his family for inviting me into their home over her last 6 weeks to continue being part of her care team. Ken was amazing at the end of her life, loving his mom so well.

But our bond became so much more than medical. When she started back to teaching I often delivered lunch to her at school. At Christmas, I filled a stocking for her each year, which she once told me was the sweetest thing I ever did for her. She joined my family for so many special events, from movies to dinners. For the past 3 years, I did most of her grocery shopping for her (not that she required much!), was often sent for emergency school supplies, and kept Amazon in business ordering things she needed...or wanted! One particularly bad week of school I sent her flowers anonymously to her classroom. She immediately called me to thank me, and I questioned what made her think I sent them. Her response- "Who else would do that for me?"- may still be my favorite thing she ever said to me. We watched TV together most every night- from separate homes! We would text as we watched. In the summer of 2018 I was blessed to be able to send she and Marilyn on a dream trip for both of them- a Disney Cruise to the Caribbean! In November of that year I took her to New York City, keeping a very old promise I had made to her in 2005. Lisa, Marilyn, Will, Michelle and I had the trip of a lifetime, including 6 shows and nearly freezing to death at the Macy's Parade. Her friends Chris and Carol Miller also took her on great trips (including an Alaskan Cruise in July of this year with Marilyn going as well), and she got to spend incredible times with her 5 grandkids in Asheville and at Disney. I loved that she always came to me for help planning things for her grandchildren. Over the last 4 years of her life, Lisa LIVED better than most of us.  And it was amazing to be part of her journey.

My family will never be the same without her. We will miss her every time we see a movie or a musical. We will miss her every time we celebrate a birthday. They will miss her every time they go to Disney. And me? When will I not miss her? Every time I see an orange car I will want to yell "Skittle!" Every time I watch anything related to "The Bachelor" I will miss her. Every time I have a story to tell, a sadness to defeat, or a need to talk about Sharknado I will miss her. And every time I see a Joe's Crab Shack my eyes will water. That was our place.  She was a special, courageous, funny, beautiful woman with whom I shared a unique bond. And it hurts to know she is gone.

When I told her goodbye as I left Ken's house on Friday night, I kissed her forehead and said the same things I had the previous 2 nights as she slipped away from us. I told her I loved her, and that it was ok- she could let go now. Her family was there. And then I reminded her one last time that I  was too. "Always and forever. No matter what."

13 weeks have passed since I wrote the above words, and it has not gotten any easier. We celebrated her life in a service just last weekend, but the hole in my heart feels no closure. Her birthday is coming fast, as is Christmas. Hard times for all who loved her, but if I may be allowed to say so, even harder for me. So many memories, so many treasured moments flood my heart. I still say good morning and good night every day, and suppose I always will. No mater what.

Carl