This isn’t about me. It’s about sweet Jaime. But I’m mad, so mad. I’m sickened by what Jaime’s been asked to endure. The long years of pain, defeat, fear and endurance have been oh so long. Seeing her battle while her family continues to need her and her kids watch her fight, instead of being able to go to their Back to School Night or school performance. I’m livid that such a beautiful spirit is being taken from us so soon, way too early. I don’t want to believe that the world can still be a good place with this bright light extinguished. So I didn’t even want to write this- in fact have been avoiding it.

But then I remember what Jaime represents and has always represented- faith in the face of devastation, hope when everything seems hopeless, and joy in the midst of suffering. And I know that she wants me to write this. She wants me to celebrate her and celebrate the wonder and beautiful complication of life. Because that’s what she represents. And she’s always steadfastly represented it. So I owe it to her and her legacy to put my thoughts to pen.

Jaime always shows up. Courageously, she’s there. And with a huge smile on her face, no less. The first time I really understood her cheerful radiance was during a night at the movies. This was back in her blogger days, when she was given free tickets and such to promote events on her blog. She asked me if I wanted to join her. We’d talked before, as I was her sweet Jeremy’s scout leader. But we didn’t really know each other. That didn’t matter to Jaime- she enthusiastically invited me to come along, stating that she wanted to get to know me better. I was impressed by her courage and friendliness, in a sometimes socially-intimidating area. We had a wonderful time, laughing over huge burritos at Javiers. And what I most remember about the night was her vulnerability. We talked more about ourselves and our deepest struggles together in a few hours, than I’d revealed to some friends in years’ worth of friendship. If Jaime’s going to be a friend to someone, it’s going to be a real, true, heart-string-connected friend: a friend who you call when you’re a puddle on the floor.

A few years passed and I was traveling through my own veil of tears. I showed up at a church event for the first time in awhile, feeling scared to be in public carrying so much pain. Jaime was one of the first to approach me. And she wrapped her arms around me, squeezing me in her embrace. My recent solitude caused me to immediately pull away with discomfort. She wouldn’t let me. She held on, for what seemed like an hour, and poured her love into my broken soul. My battered spirit relented and melted into this overpowering gesture of love. I almost started to tear up, as her embrace fed my heart with the support and unconditional love it’d been yearning for and desperately needed. It was as if she KNEW what I needed at that moment. But now I know that this was a typical “Jaime hug.” Even in her hugs, Jaime shows up for those she loves. The simple act of a hug is something Jaime looks at as a medium in which to demonstrate her fierce love for the world.

Then the ugly, relentless monster that is cancer showed up in her life. She still showed up- everytime I saw her- in the midst of the latest chemo or after weeks of being bedridden- she wore a huge smile. She hugged me. She asked me about myself. I went to visit her with a box of frozen dinners that the youth in our ward had prepared for her. She invited me in warmly, out of breath because at this point cancer was ravaging her lungs. No matter, she jumped up and walked me back to her garage. I meagerly tried to stuff the frozen meals in amongst the hoards of frozen meals that other loved ones had dropped off before me. She started to move things around in the freezer to make room for the ones I brought, even though we both knew she and her family would never be able to finish all these before they went bad. But she was determined to make sure my small offering didn’t pass by unappreciated.

Her social media was consistently positive, dare I say happy, as she used this horrific ordeal to encourage others and bring hope. She showed up time and time again, when I would have felt angry, defeated and sullen, to focus on her blessings and the things that were going right. And she did it with humor- “Hashtag- I like to breathe and I cannot lie.” I felt angry for her. My heart was broken for her. But I knew she wouldn’t allow me to be that way, because through her posts and overall demeanor, she communicated over and over again that her life was still beautiful. I was reminded again and again, if Jaime feels her life is still worth living, what am I complaining about? 

What a gift she gives us.  By always showing up with hope, cheer and never-ending compassion- she demonstrates to all of us that it’s possible. And not only that, but Jaime as an individual, shows us that this is the point.  The courage to love others with a smile, no matter what the harships of our life will be, that’s a life well lived. Jaime shows us by her life, that a life lived with intense courage, unending love, and an unrelenting effort at finding that light shining through the cracks is a successful life. It’s what matters the most. So no matter how short her life has been, it’s been a resounding life for us all to look to. By showing up every day, she’s lived more life than most of us ever will, when we face the inevitable. Thanks for this Jaime. I’ll never be the same. None of us will.