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A Letter to Family and Friends
April 15, 1971 Dear Loved Ones, my family and friends, I hope by now that some of the initial shock of my departure
has begun to wear away . . . and that the kind carpet of pleasant
memories has started to unroll. My only sadness at contemplating
this moment for you is that I know I shall go and leave much I hoped
to do with you undone. I only ask one thing. Every wonderful, delightful thrill, experience
and emotion life has to offer has been mine. Rather, recall me with a fond smile as the wife, mother, grandmother, and friend who shared your laughter, tears, and dreams through the years ... Save your sadness and sorrow for those who
leave before they find, see, feel, taste and discover the precious pleasures of
this world. I've lived a goodly span of years -- and
enjoyed them all. Laughed a lot, cried a little . . . seen a thousand
sunsets -- played many a game of tennis as the dawn broke
over the hills, courts, and rose gardens of Portland's Heights
those years I spent as a nurse in Portland and then on into
the big adventure of my life as wife and mother. There have been
walks in April rain -- through fields of daisies in summer -- shuffling
through the fallen leaves of autumn -- and Oh! the snows of winter! I've loved a man, whose love I returned
. . . I've cradled a daughter in my arms . . . and walked with
the hands of young sons in my own . . . and then one day welcomed
into my heart other sons, daughters, and grandchildren. What blessings
each of you have been to me. The memories of the years I turn over slowly
-- like the pages of a book. There were victories, and they gave
life zest. There were defeats, and they made me stronger. Many of
them were vicarious -- through family endeavors and we all grew.
Perhaps the greatest adventure of all has been the spiritual search,
which really began when you children were small. How blessed we
have both been that Daddy and I could search together. In growing up, I raced with many contemporaries
and knew the thrill of achieving . . . the roar of the crowd was
sweet. A second time we knew this thrill in the achievements of
you children. And when age came, I was allowed to stand at the edge
of the crowd and watch the young people dance the dance of living. Life was good . . . I saw robins in the
spring and once a flock of wax wings -- gardens resting in winter
and bursting into life in the spring -- the palo verde trees a river
of gold as they wandered the outline of the desert washes, a fraction
of a year later the miracle of the smoke trees blooming a lavender
flame -- the amazing blues and rose and purples that flood the desert
mountains in early mornings and evenings . . . long walks under
harvest moons . . . and from the tops of high peaks looking down
upon the flickering lights of cities and towns. Think of those happy times: Christmases
. . . the nights we slept out under the stars . . . gathering daisies,
wild strawberries and wild cranberries . . . vacations when we traveled
to far places . . . camping beside mountain streams . . . the books
we read together . . . watching an ocean roll and gathering seashells
. . .Thanksgiving dinners . . . the pets we loved . . . searching for and finding
indications of earlier civilizations. . . campfires . . . the ol' swimming holes
. . . and most of all, remember the thousands of times we were all
together as a family. No one dies as long as there is one person left in the living world who remembers with fond recall . . . and shares a thought, though that person has gone ahead. Some day one of you may be looking thoughtfully at the vast Pacific Ocean, assessing its beauty and changing moods -- you may feel a sudden, warm, soft breeze across your cheek . . . you will know that I am there . . . Or you might be standing on a mountain top, looking across a sweep of wooded foothills and valleys . . . and if there is a sudden, gentle stirring among the trees . . . feel I am sharing the moment with you. "God walks upon the hills; I saw him in
the flight On Christmas Eve, if there is a small star
in the sky, look at it with love and let it come into your heart. A person really never dies while there are
those on earth who loved that person . . . One is never gone as
long as there are those who remember with fondness . . . and as
long as memory evokes a wistful smile. All those who have loved,
and who have been loved, have earned a piece of immortality . .
. Lovingly,
Jean (Jeanette),
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