With love to Jane

As you know by now, our beloved Woman on Fire member Jane Juergens of Columbus, Ohio died last week after she was brutally attacked by 16-year-old boy while jogging in a park.

I welcome the many members of her family and community who joined us in the past week because of Jane.

Today was her funeral.  Many Women on Fire attended, with remarks delivered by Jan Allen and a special dance performance by Jessika Ferm. You can read Jan’s beautiful and heart-felt eulogy here.

Knowing Jane as I did, she would have been so touched — and because she was so focused on others — I believe she would have been surprised by the tremendous outpouring of love for her.

During a candlelight vigil last week, hosted by Jane’s son Andy at the park where she was killed, Women on Fire from every corner of this country and from as far away as Africa and New Zealand celebrated her online.

Thank you, Women on Fire! And thank you, Kay Raypholtz who created exquisite collages from our candlelight tribute.

Jane was the very epitome of a Woman on Fire — a woman who listened, cared, cheered you on, and worked to be the best person she could be in this world. It doesn’t get much better than that.

Thank you, Jane, for living a life worth every single accolade you’ve received. We will move forward, honoring your memory, remembering your joy, and emulating your courage, spunk and spirit.

I’m thinking about all of you, those of you who knew Jane, and those who didn’t but who have been touched by our loss. The support this community has shown in this past week has been extraordinary, and you make me so very proud to be a part of it.

Thank you, too, for the way you’ve rallied around Jane’s family and each other. There is nothing more beautiful — even in this overwhelming sadness — to see than what the power of love and support can create in our lives.

I’d like to close by sharing with you a happy time from Jane’s Women on Fire coaching group from last year — and a quote by Fred Rogers.

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Women on Fire members spent 2012 working together to further their dreams and goals in Jan Allen’s Life, Ignited coaching group. Pictured from left: Nicole Lovett, Mary Jo Hudson, Jan Allen, Keena Smith, Jane Juergens and Laura Tiberi.

If you could only sense how important you are to the lives of those you meet; how important you can be to the people you may never even dream of. There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person.” ~
Fred Rogers

Thank you, dear Jane for leaving so many memories of your wonderful, sweet self with each and every one of us. Rest in peace, my friend. We will cherish you always.

Until next week …

Take extra good care of yourself.

 

Mustering the courage to grieve

“Death is not extinguishing the light; it is putting out the lamp because dawn has come.” ~ Rabindranath Tagore

My brother died last week.

On, of all days, September 11.

The picture above was our last photo together taken six months after he was diagnosed with lung cancer.  Inside, my heart was breaking and when I look at his face I know his was too.

After more than a two-year battle, his death wasn’t unexpected.  But when it happened last week, I couldn’t have been more stunned.

He vigorously texted family members on September 10.  How could he just vanish from the earth a day later?

Four days later, I’m still tangled in that part of grief that is shock, sadness and denial.

Reading obituary pages, I’ve always imagined that every person listed leaves behind at least a dozen bereaved people.  That would mean millions of grieving people every day trying to carry on with their lives. How do they do it?

Now I am one of them. Again.

I’ve been in this aching, haunting, surreal spot before.  I was 10 when my beloved grandmother died, 32 when my mother-in-law died, and 49 when my father left this world.

Each of these devastating losses profoundly reshaped me.  I tuned into the spirit world when my grandmother died; my faith deepened and I started to live life on my own terms after Libby died; and I sharpened my focus on love and my life’s work after my Dad died.

With Steve’s death, I feel too sad, too raw, too guilty, too distraught to know what will come from losing this loved one.

So for now I just need to be sad.  Sad that our precious original family of seven, reduced to six when my Dad died, is now pared to five.  Sad that my mother should lose her child. Sad that my brother leaves a gravely ill wife and two daughters in their 20s. Sad that he is gone.


Our last family portrait of the six of us. My sisters Susan and Lori and my brothers Steve and Scott with my mother at Christmas.

Intellectually, emotionally, spiritually and from my experience, I know if I have the courage to lean into the grief, I will move through it.  I do believe, as awful as it feels, the nature of suffering is to develop compassion. I believe, too, that great and unexpected things will happen because of this loss.

At the moment though, I can do nothing but let my tears flow, ruminate over what I said or didn’t say, wonder if I did enough to ease his suffering.  I grab onto every new detail of his final days imagining I could have intervened and changed the outcome.

This is all part of the “magical thinking” of grief that comes with the loss of someone you love so dearly.

“Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it.” ~ Joan Didion, Year of Magical Thinking

Rest in peace, my sweet brother. I love you forever.

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Thank you so much for the tremendous outpouring of love and support I’ve received these past few days.  You are all so amazing and helps so much to move through this difficult time.

I know there are many of you grieving your own losses as well.  Let this powerfully loving and supportive community be there for you. I know I’m sure leaning into it.

Take good care and I’ll see you back here next week.