My dearest baby Jessie Bear,

I can’t believe, cannot accept that you have left me. You were supposed to live forever, my love. You had so many dreams, so many gifts, so much beauty. Baby, I don’t even know what happened to you at the end. This pain of knowing that I won’t see you again in this life is far too great to carry. From way before you were born, before Sarah was born, all that I wanted from life were my babies. I am not the modern feminist I appear to be, I guess, not when my only real dream (other than swimming with dolphins and seeing the invisible world, crazy mom that I am) was to get pregnant, give birth, nurse my babies, and watch them grow into strong women. I originally wanted 14 children (hah, hah), but life didn’t work out that way. But before ever your sister or you were born I was wracked by the fear that one or both of you would be taken from me. I’m not talking about a casual fear like of cockroaches (right, Sarah), or an out-of-date quart of milk in the fridge. My fear was the lie-awake-at-night-and-beg-the-gods kind of fear: “Please, please don’t take my babies! Take me, take parts of me, all of me, leave me blind and paralyzed, but please don’t take my babies.” These begging sessions would be followed by the threats: “If you take my babies, I will HATE you forever! I will never worship you again…” It was only when a psychic friend of mine told me that she saw my girls both outliving me that I finally started relaxing and trusting that you both would be OK. Looking back, I don’t know if I should ask for a refund or thank her for the few years of peace she gave me.

So now you have left your body, and what a beautiful body it is. But your spirit, your mind, your wonderful, beautiful soul is what I want back, Baby Girl. You and I struggled at times when you were an older teen and even more recently. Much of our struggles were because we were so very much alike. I used to apologize to you for that likeness knowing that being as deeply emotional as I am, as deeply feeling, you were going to experience a significant amount of pain in your life, pain which I wanted desperately to prevent. So while wanting to give you your freedom, as you deserved, I also wanted you to heed my words and experiences so I could protect you from the pain that was sure to come. But I wasn’t able to protect you, my bright girl, was I?

I was so blessed to give birth to you, to nurse you and cuddle you, holding you so close to my heart. You were a cuddler, which was lovely, but you were also fiercely independent and demanding at times. Dad insisted I wean you when you took to screaming your demand for “MUCK,” known to the rest of us as milk, anytime you wanted it no matter where we were. If not immediately offered to you, you would proceed to scream as if we had denied you Santa Claus at Christmas. I was nearly thrown out of Emigh’s Hardware one day during one such tantrum.
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As a child you were both terribly sensitive and a bit of a whiner, but you were game for so many things. Like me, you loved all animals. Unlike me, you adored sports. You loved to play games, read, do art, help cook and bake, sew and be with all your friends in Cohousing where you lived till you were about 12. You were always a sweet, loving child. Your very eyes when they looked at me glistened with love, and you’d do anything with me that I asked…hiking, sightseeing, those things parents love to do with children and teenagers. Later you shared with me that when you were about 12 you saw your sister sassing me, being generally an adversarial teenager, and you told me: “I thought, ‘I could never be mean to Mommy, I love her too much.’ But later, I was as bad if not worse than Sarah!” That was a hard change to deal with.

We certainly had a few hard years between 20 and 24. You’d swing from loving and kind to demanding and painfully blame-filled. Throughout all of this, I loved you, Baby, always. It broke my heart, I cried a river of tears, it wrenched my soul, and I wracked my brain trying to figure out how to heal the distance between us, but could find no solution, and so I was left to release the situation and hope, in time, things would resolve between us. They did, I believe, when you moved to L.A. Finally, away from Sacramento influences and with a whole new world opening to you, you began to blossom in happiness and a growing self-assurance as you spread your wings in your own new world. I’m so very grateful you had that time and that you were surrounded by beautiful people like Beck, Isaac, and Erik, and so many other friends who were drawn to your bright light.

Now your bright light is gone from my life. If I didn’t have Sarah, Chris, and others who love and need me, I would follow you into the dark, my Love. I would never let go of your hand until you were comforted by angels and were ready to take off and fly into another adventure. I will ALWAYS be your mommy. You will always be my heart. I already feel you with me at times, your arms wrapped around me, saying, “I’m so sorry, Mommy, for leaving…” But I will miss your brightness, your love, your light every day until we meet again, and I wrap you in my arms. Go to the light, my beautiful sweet, Jessie Bear!