Dear Elli,
Today is November 24th. And this date is a very important and sad one for us. Ten years ago today we lost Jenny. Your Aunt Jenny. Your daddy's sister Jenny. Your grandma's daughter Jenny. My friend Jenny.
It doesn't seem like it's been ten years. It sometimes seems like yesterday.
I really wish you could have met your Aunt Jenny. She was a character. You two would have gotten along famously. You've seen her pictures. You know who she is. But you don't know her. So I'm going to tell you about her.
I met Jenny when your daddy and I started dating. She was his big sister. And she was very protective of him. Prior to our first meeting, your daddy informed me that if she didn't like me, she would kick my ass. (He was really sweet and encouraging like that.)
She didn't kick my ass. Although she looked me up and down suspiciously for awhile. And she certainly didn't shy away from her reputation as an ass kicker. I was kind of afraid of her for awhile. Because she totally could have kicked my ass if she chose to. Thank God she didn't.
And she slowly became a friend. And later like my own sister. We hung out a lot. She was hilarious.
She had a way of looking at idiotic people that could make whatever you were drinking shoot from your nose. She called every female, "Woman!". Especially her mom. She called female children "Little Mommy", pronouncing mommy with a little Latino swag to it. I stole that from her. And that's why I call you that.
She took care of her brothers. Always. She was the ruler of her siblings. The mother hen. The enforcer. She made sure they were acting right and not like giant douchebags. She was the glue that kept us all together.
We joined the gym together once. We were gonna be super hot! Yeah.... We usually walked briskly around the track a few times prior to riding the waterslide repeatedly and floating around the pool talking. We did not improve our physiques, but we did improve our friendship. It was awesome.
Jenny was a clean freak. Her house was always immaculate. And she never missed an opportunity to make fun of my complete lack of housekeeping skills. I can still hear her asking me when I might decide to wash the week-old sink full of dishes. Sometimes she would get so disgusted with our dishes that she would do them herself. (Which was awesome and in no way encouraged me to improve my housekeeping abilities.)
When your daddy and I got engaged, she was so excited. We were going to be real sisters, at least legally. And there were gonna be two "Jennifer Odoms" walking the earth! We both thought that was funny and laughed about how we would probably receive each other's bills in the mail.
But just six months before our wedding day, we lost her. On November 24, 2003. There were never two "Jennifer Odoms" walking the earth at the same time. That was apparently just not in the cards.
I did change my name, obviously. But I still haven't gone one full week without seeing my name in print and freaking out a little. And being sure that Jenny is who they really mean. Because I'm not the real "Jennifer Odom". I'm just Jenn. She was the real deal.
You always tell me you like my tattoo. It's a dolphin with a halo over its head. I don't love dolphins. But your Aunt Jenny did. It's an angel dolphin. Her angel dolphin. And it's my reminder every day of her. And how lucky I am to have known her. Your daddy has one, too. And so does Grandma Becky. Theirs are different from mine, but all of them remind us. Every day. That Jenny was here. She existed. And we love her still. Ten years later.
So today we remember her. Not dwelling on her death, but rather her life. And how lucky we were. We continue to grow older every year, but Jenny will always be 28.
You're lucky, too. Her blood is coursing through your veins. And sometimes you remind me of her. And although you two never met, I'm confident that she's watching over you, just like she always watched over her brothers. And for that, you're one lucky "Little Mommy".
I love you.
Mom
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