“If you need anything, let me know.”
“If there’s anything I can do, just call me.”
In the three long weeks since the passing of my wife, I have heard those lines-- what else can you say to a thirty-three year old widow, right?-- more times than I can count on four dozen hands; from my closest family members, my furthest acquaintances, and my dearest friends.
I appreciated the kind words in each and every instance, thanked him or her countless times, and nodded my head, reassuringly.
"Just live your life the way she did. Thanks again for everything."
It's now a few weeks later and everyone's gone back to living their own lives because that's what happens, right? Totally get it. C'e la vie. Life goes on.
But a whole helluva lot of thank you's are in order for what’s gotten me, and countless others, through these past three weeks (read: two years and eight months), starting first and foremost with our parents. Kim and her BFFs, who planned the most epic floral arrangement I've ever seen in the history of floral arrangements (most folks driving along the Bronx River Parkway on the morning of September 20th would most definitely agree with me).
Our families, our friends. Andrea. The hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of people who came to her wake, attended the mass, sent texts, emails, phone calls, faxes, smoke signals, whatever it was; it was incredibly amazing and absolutely overwhelming, and it was everything she could have ever imagined and, ultimately, deserved.
The hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds of people who came to her wake, attended the mass, sent texts, emails, phone calls, faxes, smoke signals, whatever it was; it was incredibly amazing and absolutely overwhelming, and it was everything she could have ever imagined and, ultimately, deserved.
Let's not forget that police escort, which shut down the very streets in which she grew up, en route to her burial-- because if there was anyone who loved a good scene, it was my wife. Seriously, I'm convinced the Royal Family and Pope held a special place in her heart simply because of the traffic jams and crowds they would draw when visiting New York City.
She caused quite the stir herself over these last few weeks-- from her last hospital stay to the funeral home to her mass and burial. Add to that 25,000 page views and 5,000 shares on her first tribute, and it’s fairly evident to anyone and everyone that she went out like a boss, our princess, my queen.
To her current and past co-workers, old friends, bosses and acquaintances, patients, staff, whoever else, thank you as well. You all recounted to me the same stories about her overwhelming presence, grace, and how you would never, ever forget her smile and personality. It didn't matter if you met her for just five minutes or knew her for five years, the impact that she left on all of us was one in the same.
Truthfully, I've never experienced anything like the past few weeks, none of us will probably ever see anything like it again. Halfway through the wake, I looked at her and mumbled under my breath, “An angel."
Because that's exactly what she was.
The outpouring of love has been nothing short of phenomenal, but what else can we expect from a woman who had a flair for the dramatic unlike any other, right? For someone who loved a good party more than life itself, she held her very own, three-day long farewell tour on the 14th floor of Memorial Sloan-- three days longer than any doctor gave her. She fought until the very end, just like she fought over the last thirty-two months, day in and day out.
That was just her style, simply the way she lived this thing we call life.
Like when she was asked numerous times by both of our mothers to vacuum seal her wedding dress, and she always respectfully declined. It never made sense to any of us. Until her will asked that we bury her in it.
Or how she inexplicably opened her eyes at 1 a.m. on the morning of the 20th and looked at her best friend and childhood sweetheart a split second before she passed-- after almost three days of being practically unresponsive to any and everyone else. I never understood the word agony until I had to watch my wife slowly slip away like that. In one word, torture.
So now what? What are we left with? Memories. The good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly. We remember the good, we toss out the bad. I'm left with four walls which she transformed into our home over the past six years, tons and tons (literally, tons) of clothes, and thousands of pics and videos to remember it all by.
See, if you were in Jill's inner circle, you knew she documented everything in her phone over her past twelve to eighteen months. I mean everything. Literally, I don't think a home-cooked meal went without a photo montage. And now I know why.
When I would ask her why she was recording or taking a picture of something so seemingly meaningless at the time, she would always respond with a, "You never know!”
The funny part is, as Father Robert Aufieri recounted in his homily the day of her burial mass, she did know. And she accepted and admitted her fate during a visit to her parish in February of last year.
Being a nurse, she knew from the onset that her cancer had spread that she was on borrowed time, but she never put that burden on anyone else. Never me. Never our parents. Never our family and friends.
Being a nurse, she knew from the onset that her cancer had spread that she was on borrowed time, but she never put that burden on anyone else. Never me. Never our parents. Never our family and friends.
Always with a smile, always looking towards the bright side. Always hopeful.
"I know... I'll deal with it," were the last words she said to Father on that chilly February day.
I'm eternally grateful about how she taught me to live in the moment... Kim, her best friend for the past twenty-nine years, said it best to me the other night.
"She always made me feel like money didn't mean anything, and I'll never forget that... She grew up with the bare essentials and still made it work, she would always say that. And then when she finally had her own, she did all she could."
And did she ever.
She loved Matteo, our nephew, more than life itself and showed it every day by showering him with gifts. Personalized shirts, adorable toys, outfits for every occasion imaginable, you name it. She knew he was the closest she would ever get to motherhood, and she didn't waste a second spoiling him, every minute of every single day.
The most difficult part about all of this is that I know the last few weeks were the easy part. The rekindled friendships, the random Facebook messages, the out-of-the-blue phone calls. All of that has made this entire nightmare that much easier.
For that, all of those, I am thankful.
And the signs; dozens and dozens of signs since she has passed, which prove that what she said in her will about not going anywhere is the truth. Her favorite songs, favorite celeb sightings, vivid dreams, random wedding dress emails, inexplainable GPS locations in my car, scratch-off lotto wins. You name it, and we got it. I'm thankful for every single sign. Every last one.
And this month, October-- Breast Cancer Awareness Month-- will be the easiest month of them all. The walks, the fundraisers, the pink ribbons everywhere. The support has and will continue to be outstanding. For that, I am even more thankful.
But the toughest road lies ahead. I know that. Her friends and family both know that. Because for everything that has and will continue to make this tremendous loss a bit easier, talk to me on a random Tuesday at 3 a.m. when I miss holding hands with her in bed, just like we did every single night after her diagnosis. Those nights have been, are, and will continue to be my toughest.
But the guy upstairs doesn’t give you what you can’t handle, am I right?
So with that said, bring it. And Jillian Grace-- my once-in-a-lifetime love, my soul, my heart, my rock, and my hero-- thank you for the last fifteen years of amazing memories. They will last me a lifetime, this lifetime, my lifetime.
I'll be seeing you around, my love.
If you would like to make a donation in Jillian's name to The Triple Negative Breast Cancer Foundation, please read more here. You can also donate and/or participate in her Making Strides Against Breast Cancer Walk on Sunday, October 16th here.
[Feature Image Courtesy Facebook]