A flower in bud, mere seconds before bursting into bloom, that moment when the sun, rays reaching out, overpowers the clouds and showers light on all below, a wisp of a smile before the laughter bubbles out. Jen was that. Just gaining the courage to be out in the world, letting us all be lit with her light, embracing newfound freedoms, self-confidence; realizing that not only did she have things to say, but that people wanted to listen, to read her words. Jen was that. Fledgling writer, wing-feathers primed to fly: she wanted to write her stories, the Jen moments, to share, to help, to let others know they weren't alone. Jen was that. Reaching out, embracing so many, bringing them into her world. Raspy voice dissolving into hearty laughter, a smile that went clear to her eyes and pulled everyone in, dawning revelations on the lovely soul she embodied. Jen was that. Mother, she was the embodiment of the word, caring, nurturing, teaching her children that nothing, absolutely nothing could hold them back, that believing in themselves opened every door. Her doors were opened wide. Jen was that. Standing on the brink of tomorrow, she had such dreams for herself, her love, her children, her friends. Jen was that. I was once told that angels are made of dreams, hopes and wishes bundled together and given wings to help those left behind to fly. Jen is that. |