[note: I've now lost at least 3 different blogs--pieces of me, but the one that pains me most is my year of consistently writing with Ann Dee Ellis' 8-minute memoir prompts. Maybe someday I'll retrieve them. But for how, let's start where we are on this day in January of 2022.]
Jen Galan
Bright blue eyes full of mischief and also full of love. Brightest smile. One of the smartest and funniest people I may ever know. Jen had--has--the biggest and most generous heart.
Jen was my friend for years before I actually saw her. We met right here--through Blogger, back in the day. Galanpalooza meet Compulsive Writer. We had mutual friends. Bloggers--mostly moms--for blogging sake. We connected because she was brave enough to be vulnerable before it was the subject of a Brene Brown book. Our hearts went out to each other's. Jen has many friends and was open and loving to all. She made us all feel special and like we were her best person. Not in a contrived way. She just gave you her heart. Sometimes she confided in me. Sometimes I peeled away a layer or two and confided in her. We listened, loved, and supported and strengthened each other. We connected because she was real.
This past Christmas I did some organizing. And it seemed every time I turned around I found something she had made me. A red and black crocheted Dalak hand towel. A paper mache (or some other DIY method) angel with her hands over her eyes <<Don't Blink!.>> A blue phone booth Christmas stocking. (It's bigger on the inside.) She made these things for me at a time I was buried with a demanding job she helped me land and sandwiched between kids at home and helping care of my mom, so it's not like they were every reciprocated. But Jen gave freely and from the heart and never expected anything back.
I have an assortment of photos of Jen I will forever cherish:
Jen and--in one of the rare times I will get in the picture--me at Disneyland. That time her husband was stationed who-knows-where and I told her I was driving down to Cedar City to help and she told me all she needed was for me to drive her to Disneyland. OK. It was the very best time I've ever had at Disneyland.
Jen sitting across from me at Cracker Barrel when she drove down from Cedar City to St. George during Winter Fire School so we could nosh on chicken fried something comfort food and laugh and almost cry together.
And, perhaps two of my most cherished:
One of Jen sitting across the table from me at her home in Kansas nibbling on the homemade chicken pot pie I made for her--my best offering of comfort food. Though chemo affected her sense of taste and her appetite, she made me feel like she could actually taste it and it was good.
The other at the entrance of First City Cheese Market where we had the most perfect tomato soup, cheese sandwich, and chocolates before she sent me home from an extended stay with her and her kids while her husband was deployed.
It would be the last time I saw her.
