Jean Blakey - Online Memorial Website

Goodbye Jean

You think about all the movies you’ve seen about death and funerals searching for the right thoughts to express.

Nothing seems appropriate. Any loss is difficult but to lose someone like Jean is an avalanche of misery because she meant so much to so many people.

I’ve known Jean for more than fifty years.

Jean was important to me -- my anchor in world of confusion and disappointment.  She was always supportive and encouraging. She was always concerned for other people and did her best to help out whenever possible. She was the glue that held family and friends together. My world is diminished without Jean… now there is only an ache that will never go away. 

I

Can’t even cry

Feeelings lost.

You took them with you

As you left

Yes,

I gave them freely

On one condition

Perhaps you misunderstood.

Handle with care

A part of me is Here

By Marcie Balan

I know so many of you but for those I have not had the pleasure to meet yet, I am Kitty - Jeans’ niece.  I am the youngest daughter of her sister and youngest granddaughter of her mother who passed before her. I am proud to come from a long line of strong, passionate, opinionated, talented, remarkable women.  All of them fighters.  All from Long Beach. 

I have been fortunate to have spoken too many of Jean’s friends (more remarkable Long Beach women) and each conversation seems to repeat the same themes.  She was wise, caring and unselfish with a sparkling smile.  She never hesitated to work for a cause she believed in.  Always ready to give car rides or deliver a meal to a sick friend.  She took time to listen and if asked to give advice, she would.  If she wasn’t asked then she simply gave support. She had an amazing memory.   She shared her life’s beliefs.   Things like; life is what you make of it.  It is what you do, not what you say that matters.

 During the last couple of months while she was in the hospital the essence of Jean that we all loved and admire was vibrant.  As the nurses would Prod and poke her.  She never complained.  She thanked them every time they assisted her.  She never took for granted anything anyone did for her.   She was weak but she didn’t dwell on that.  Instead she was worried about not calling or sending a card from her desk to say happy anniversary to Charles and Karen.  She wanted to know how Sam celebrated his birthday.   She loved and worried about her family.  Just last Friday as she was fighting to remain with us she was watching the news with Doug and heard about the crash at the Reno air show, she asked Doug to call and make sure John and I were ok.  The amazing part is… it wasn’t just me.   She watched over every one of her family and friends in the same way.   Top of her list was family.  Not just her sons but her brother, sister in law, daughter in laws, cousins, nephews, nieces, great nephews and nieces and of course grandson Sam.   How she found the time to acknowledge and remember each event in our lives is a mystery and amazes me. Numerous friends have approached to share stories of Jean giving them encouragement through their personal struggle and she never once complained, and barely even mentioned what she was going through.

Jean was a fighter her whole life.  She wasn’t going to let a 40 day hospital stay or some cancer make her stop fighting.  A couple weeks ago she had a bad Monday and Tuesday that scared everyone.   I received a call from Bruce saying I should come right away.   I grabbed a Wednesday flight, with thanks to my wonderful and patient husband John who  has become my  personal reservation agent and very adept in making all the plane, car and room reservations while I am acting like a cat thrown into a bathtub of water.  I arrived expecting to find Jean out of it as she had been the day before.  I was very fortunate to find that she was up and alert.  She knew I was coming and looking forward to my visit and smiled as I walked in.  She told the nurses not to brush her hair because her niece was coming and knew what to do.   We had a full spa day with Resa’s moisturizers and Maries French perfume.   We finished with a pedicure!  It was an amazing day and a memory that I am thankful to have.  Even though this was not our last visit together, this is the visit I choose to remember. 

You all know Jean; the teacher, caretaker, philanthropist, enthusiast and supporter of artists, musicians and writers, community leader, event director and Friend of Israel.  I love all these things about her but for me… Jean was my Aunt.  It is difficult to verbalize how very special she was to me and how connected we were.  She really wasn’t “just” my aunt.   She was my mentor, teacher, mother, sister, confidant and best friend.  She is my inspiration; she is the person I aspire to be.  Freud would give you a lot of reasons why we connected.  He would tell you of needs or desires on her side or mine but I never felt that.  Our relationship over the last 30 years developed to where we respected each other and deeply loved each other. 

In every part of my adult life, marriage, birth of my children, divorce, moving away, remarrying, and deaths of my parents, Jean has always been there for me.  We have spoken almost daily for years.  It was Jean who guided me every night while I was bedside with my mother, her sister.  For an hour each night as I wandered the halls of a hospital Jean counseled me.  It was very hard on her with Bob having only passed four months earlier.  She put that aside and was there for me.  She has answered my questions about absolutely everything.  How to potty train, what to feed a child after the flu, how to fund raise and how to let my sons make their own mistakes. Jean has had a hand in every decision I have made throughout my life.  After my divorce she was the one who insisted I go on a date with an older man who lived 500 miles away. I eventually married that man.  The most difficult period and decision was moving away.  I did not know how I could be so far.  She and Bob were more grandparents to Kyle and Shawn than Aunt and Uncle.  A selfish person would never have convinced me that it was a great opportunity for the boys to live in a small town with fabulous skiing.  We would resort to phone calls and holidays.  I am devastated because I have not finished asking all my questions and she is not here to answer me. 

 To Uncle Paul, Marie, Bruce, Alene, Doug, Pseu ,Charles, Karen, Alan,  Aunt  Jeans friends and this wonderful community who have helped our family so much throughout the last couple of months with well wishes, food, support and hugs.  Your love for Jean has been bountiful and filled a very emotional and stressful time with refreshing warmth.     After one of my hospital stays with jean she said thank you for coming.  I said you don’t need to thank me of course I would come and she said.  “I know I do not need to thank you but I want you to know how much I appreciate you”    So to all of you I share some wisdom passed down from my Aunt.  My cousins and I know we don’t need to thank you, of course you would be there for Jean and us, but we want you ALL to know we really appreciate you.

This special poem was chosen and shared by Jean when her mother passed away.  By Jean and her sons for Bob.  By my brother and sisters for our Mother.  I am sure Jean shared it many times with friends who too have suffered a loss.  

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there... I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow...
I am the diamond glints on snow...
I am the sunlight on ripened grain...
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you waken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of gentle birds in circling flight...
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry—
I am not there... I did not die...

You are an eight year old girl, the youngest daughter, no cares, no real responsibilities. Then a baby shows up, and your world changes. Suddenly there is someone else in the house, and more responsibilities for you. 

If you are Jean, you react the same way you do for the rest of your life. No resentment at your lost freedom, you have someone else to take care of, and you focus 100% on being the best big sister and second Mom the world has ever known.

And. We all know what Jean was like when she decided something needed to be done.

Many many people in this room know what it means when Jean decided you were her responsibility.  My big sister had an unbelievable ability to put aside all her own needs, all her own pain, and just spend all her energy caring for the needs of others.  Throughout her life, through personal tragedies that would have brought most of us mere mortals to our knees, I never once heard any word of bitterness from her, never any railing at the unfairness of what had happened.  Always, her focus was outward, "what else needs to be done? Who else needs my help?" During her last days, in the hospital, and at home, through sickness and pain and medical procedures, her conversation would always turn to making sure that this or that other person was taken care of, how is he or she doing? ; I want to make sure I send out this birthday or anniversary card; what more can I do?.

In our religion we do not have saints.  If we were Catholic, I am sure that many here would be thinking about writing to the Pope ..... Which, of course, Jean would say was just silly .... She was just doing what needed to be done.  What anyone would do.

So, with all due respect to the rest of you, I am the luckiest person in this room.  All the love and caring that the rest of you got a bit of from my big sister, I had for over 66 years. She started practicing that outward looking caring approach to life that you all know when she was 8 years old, and she never looked back.

Jean isn't with us anymore.  But all any of us need to do is think back to moments with her, and we know what she would say today "I don't need anything anymore, but could you do me a favor and take some time to take care of everyone else for me?"

This is difficult.  It’s still so fresh, so immediate, with so many conflicting emotions, that formulating any sort of clear perspective is just about impossible for me right now.  Ma has always been so vital and active – a force of nature – that, even in light of all the events of the last three months, part of me hasn’t really been able to imagine how this day could actually come.

Okay, quick aside.  Three things Ma had in common with “The Rocky Horror Picture Show”:

• A willingness to open her door to strangers, regardless of what was going on in her own life.

• An acceptance of alternate lifestyles – such as living on a boat and sailing around the world.

• Five words – “don’t dream it, be it.”

I’m not the best person to tell you about all the wonderful things Ma has done in her life; as a Teacher, a Community Activist, a Motivator, an Inspiration, a Confidant, a Companion, a Friend.  So much of that I’ve learned, and am learning, from all of you.  It’s truly remarkable, and very humbling.  My relationship with Ma was, euphemistically, complicated.  From the time I was twelve years old, when my Pop married Jean (a second marriage for both, with both bringing two kids each and plenty of other baggage to the family “blender”), Ma has been a constant presence in my life.  Those early years weren’t exactly easy.  To say our world views differed would be putting it mildly.  But despite my best efforts, I learned so very much from her.  I learned about caring for more than just myself.  I learned that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing well.  I learned the importance of dependability and perseverance and commitment and patience.  And I learned that in a contest between love and practicality, love will always prevail, even when it shouldn’t.

To most people who don’t live in my head, this will probably sound weird.  But shortly after the birth of my son Sam (who’s had his own not-inconsiderable life challenges), I started to sense there were Angels among us.  Not the magical, wispy, wings-and-halo type; but certain people who seemed to make the extraordinary seem natural and commonplace; people who were just plain there when you needed them, in just the way you needed them.  My Ma was one of those Angels among us.  She taught my son how to catch a ball and how to play games in the pool.  She surrounded him with books and taught him songs about numbers and animals and seasons and holidays.  She maintained a constant supply of crackers and cheese and “tias” and hot sauce.  And she loved him, liked she loved all of us, for who he is.  I don’t think there will ever come a time when Sam won’t tell me “I want Grandma”.  I’ll have to tell him – “later”.