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Jacklyn May Chapman Dailey
June 12, 1939 - April 8, 2024
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I called her mom, or Nonnie, or sometimes Nonnie-Noodles. Each name was an endearment for the person who brought me into this world. I was her 3rd child in three years. She was tired when I came along. She never let me forget that she gained 60 pounds over the 9 months she carried me.
I was a clumsy, chubby child but she said I was just big boned and when I fell down she called me Graceful Gladys or Grace for short. She'd say, "pick yourself up and dust yourself off", then she'd send me on my way as though nothing had ever happened. She taught me to get back up.
I have vivid memories of her taking my tiny toddler hand as we walked down a long series of metal steps that led to the beach we visited each summer day. I was afraid of heights and begged her to carry me but she insisted that I could do it myself if only I held her hand in mine.
One of the books that she read to us when we were little was I love you Forever by Robert Munsch. She'd line us kids up on the couch beside her, and read to us as we listened intently. When I became a mom, I read this book to my own children and found myself singing, rather than reading, the refrain, "I love you forever, I like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be". At first I didn't know where my sing-song way of reading these words came from. But the memory of her voice drifted in from the past and I shared it with my own children in the same way it was shared with me, as a melody.
My mother was a simple person born into the silent generation. She put everyone else's needs in front of her own. As a homemaker, she supported her family in all our endeavors. She filled her free time with tea, her children and friends, and yarn. She crocheted beautiful granny square blankets with perfectly consistent stitches and gave away everything she ever made. With little extra money available, she sewed many of our clothes. She followed us to our sports events, welcomed our friends into our home and taught us right from wrong in her own simple terms.
She shared worldly philosophy with us, like, "everyone is pink on the inside". She expressed compassion for the underdog, and passed on this trait to her children and grandchildren. She never forgot her humble beginnings as one of 15 siblings and understood that wealth was not measured by your wallet. She always looked at the bright side and almost never held a grudge. When someone didn't approve of her she'd say, "They'll get over it!"
My mother didn't put on airs or compete for attention or favors. She was a take it or leave it kind of gal. She saw the good in most everyone but saw through those who carried evil in their hearts. She taught us to be careful what we wished for; and pointed out that things can always be worse, so we should count our blessings even when times got tough. When we did something stupid she'd ask, "Did you learn something?" She downplayed all of our challenges and insisted that everything would work out in the end as long as our intentions were good and we didn't give up. She reminded us often that she wasn't born yesterday, and helped us work through inconsequential choices by pointing out the answer was six of one, half dozen of the other. In essence, she taught us everything we needed to know.
Nonnie lived by the rules of common sense and the belief that if the good Lord is willing and the creek don't rise, she would see you again. She insisted that if we didn't have anything nice to say, we shouldn't say anything at all. When dementia stole her ability to carry a conversation, I could always count on a quick response from her like, "Well that's the important thing, or "If it's not one thing, it's another."
My mother signed every card she sent with "Love Always Mom" or "Love Always Nonnie", and she ended our phone conversations with "I love you more!" As she aged, she slowed down a little each year. Her health was never great but she forged on with courage and determination after each setback. At times, she'd get confused and have trouble with balance, but she knew that I would catch her when she stumbled if she let me hold her hand in mine.
Mom lived with my younger sister, her fourth child, for the last years of her life. She was a part of everything our family did. All of our friends and our children's friends, coworkers, coaches, neighbors, everyone called her Nonnie. I'm not even certain they knew her name was Jackie. She was just Nonnie to all.
My mother outlived all of her closest friends. She sat quietly beside each one as they worked their way through the end of life process. Our 92 year old uncle passed away in November. He had become mom's best friend. Mom called to let me know that he was in hospice. When I responded with great sadness she said "Don't you be sad, he's just acting his age." There was no one left to hold Mom's hand, outside of our family when her time came, but there were a whole lot of loving arms waiting for her arrival in heaven.
I cannot fathom a world without her in it but I cherish and will follow the lessons she burned into me like tattoos on my soul. I am a product of my memories and experiences that started with and always come back to her. As she leaned toward eternity I sang to her these words by Robert Munsch; I love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living my mommy you'll be.
My mom left us on April 8, 2024 while the moon and the sun came together to wow the world with a moment of darkness followed by the return of light during a total solar eclipse. She slipped away without fanfare or fuss, in her own quiet way.
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| Nonnie aboard S/V Mystic 2021 |
