In Memoriam - JoJo

I'm out of words tonight. One of my mother's oldest and closest friends, a woman I have known for almost thirty years died early this week. She was 57.

I don't have the right words to explain what JoJo meant to me. She was not a parental figure. She was not a role model in the traditional sense of the word. But she was there in my life, someone I have known for as long as I can remember, a small, funky woman who lived loud.

She was there when I was a child in her home, with my favorite book (Gnomes by Rien Poortvliet and Wil Huygen) ready for me to read over and over again. She stood in as my confirmation sponsor, and sat in the bleachers at my high school graduation. As I moved into college and graduate school she cheered my nerve and supported my desire to become independent. She cried at my wedding and was the first to demand photographs when I returned from my first solo trip to Paris.

She marveled at the opportunities I had, the chances I took that never crossed her path. Through her eyes I was smarter, stronger, braver, and more adventurous then I felt in real life.

Shortly after retiring she was diagnosed with an aggressive and rare brain tumor. For almost three years she subjected herself to repeated rounds of radiation; surgery and finally chemotherapy. She lost her hair more than once and grew physically brittle from all the poisons used to try to save her life.

She died on Monday night, surrounded by the people who loved her, the people she loved.