(sunlight over fence, SI., photo by Jenn See)

“…so i will spend the next few days reveling in the past & in memories, collecting myself in the present, & looking to the future…which promises many new things & much Change, along with all that comes with these things.”

-Jennifer Cakert, 2006

Those words.

A little over one year into this experience we call blogging I (and many others) lost a dear friend. Jennifer–Jenn See to the blogging community–left this world with a sudden and untimely death. In addition to leaving behind a loving family and dear friends, she left behind a group of us who were inspired by her creativity and just plain enjoyed having the kind of fun, sometimes nonsensical, sometimes intensely profound conversations that we all experience in this community. She also left behind a legacy with her words, her poetry, her pictures, and a creative spark that lives on in so very many ways.

That was four years ago, and those words were the last that Jenn See wrote, appearing in a post on Wednesday, June 21st, 2006. The next day she was gone. She was only 26 years old.

Over the past four years those words have sparked a number of different personal feelings and reactions: Shock, disbelief and the cruel fact that life isn’t fair gave way to profound sadness and eventually to inspiration. Now they are a mantra of sorts, a touchstone, a talisman. Yet they retain a degree of melancholy that I suspect will never completely fade.

(shadow on fence, Ventnor, NJ., photo by Jenn See)

There are very few people left who visit this site regularly who had the pleasure of being a part of Following My Fish and getting to know Jenn See, Mysfit, and Oldben. As with any group, people come and go as time marches on. For any who are interested, I would point you to former posts which speak much about who Jenn See was to the community and the impact that she had and continues to have:

June 2006 (announcing Jennifer’s passing)

June 2006 (a follow up to the first post)

June 2007 (A feature showcasing some of my favorite of Jenn See’s photos, posted on the one year anniversary)

June 2008 (The beginning of a week long art exploration in honor of Jenn See and a fund raiser for the scholarship fund in her honor)

Each year I try to do something different to honor Jennifer, the primary reason being that I do not feel it honors anyone to rehash the sadness and unfairness of a life cut short. Those things need to be acknowledged, to be sure, but Jennifer did not leave behind a void, she left behind a legacy.

Last year, the third anniversary of Jennifer’s death, found me remembering her in light of recent events in my own life (you can see that post here). Mary’s routine surgery that took a scary turn just two weeks prior had left me contemplating the fleeting nature of this life more clearly than any other event since Jennifer’s passing. I mentioned in that post that the exhortations to live life to the fullest that have a tendency to pour out of my heart through the keyboard on various occasions can seem very trite and cliched if looked at as mere words on the page. I can only do now what I did then, which is to express my genuine sincerity in those words. It is not mere sentiment, believe me.

In looking back and remembering, I was most struck by the changes that have occurred in my own life, and in the lives of Jenn See’s family over this past year. This last year for me has not been one of promises unfulfilled or dreams put on hold, as so often is the case. Instead I’ve seen decisions made before Mary’s surgery, cauterized by her brush with mortality, that have made lasting positive changes in our lives. A year ago last May we started the Dave Ramsey plan in earnest, making financial sacrifices in an effort to eliminate debt once and for all. A year later we find ourselves following a working budget that allows us to still have fun while making huge strides towards our financial goals. Almost half of our big credit card debt has been paid off, we have been able to pay for Tori’s college tuition, have been able to give to causes that are on our hearts, and we’ve spent the better part of a year not having any reason to bicker about finances–the number one source of any marital strife we had. We destroyed all of our credit cards over a year ago and, the biggest miracle of all, I’ve learned that I can make do with a small allowance and can say ‘no’ to myself without feeling like I’m suffering at all.

I have been deeply involved in the development of two new youth programs for the mental health centers in the Northwest Region of Missouri, one of which–transitional services for young adults aged 16-25–has been on my heart for many years.

The past few months have seen me rethinking the way I approach work and my life thanks to some very good books, by author Seth Godin, that my friend James introduced me to.

And I have been slowly pushing forward with some creative art projects that have been coursing through my head for a few years now (and that I was not putting enough energy into).

Those might all seem like very small things, but were you to be in my shoes you would realize just what big steps these really are. It may seem odd to say at age 41, but I have grown up over the last year.

For Jennifer’s family and friends this year has seen some amazing changes as well. Oldben has recently welcomed life into the world in the form of a baby boy. Congratulations!!! The Jan-Ai Scholarship fund (link here) which provides funding for young artists has awarded $35,000 in scholarships to 99 recipients. And today marks a very special event. The high school that Jennifer attended, Atlantic City High School, is dedicating a mural today featuring inspirational figures, including Jennifer. Below is a sketch of the mural in progress. Jennifer’s mother Cynthia will be sending me photos from the dedication showing the completed mural which I will post when they arrive.

I highly encourage you to check out the Jan-Ai site. It is a beautiful website and it continues to be a wonderful tribute to the creative spirit of Jennifer Cakert. It is one part of her legacy. One that we can all support and one that grows exponentially because of the seeds sown in the lives of other young creative spirits.

Cynthia and I had a brief email conversation today about why this anniversary in particular has been hard. I had been thinking about this myself. I postulated that in the beginning everything seems so unreal, so impossible. Then it sets in that it is all too real. She is gone and nothing about that makes any sense at all. As time passes I think you reach some sort of middle ground where the grief is still present but you become more aware of the fact that life is going on. That realization brings with it the opposing feelings of happiness at seeing the wonderful things that are happening coupled with a sadness that naturally comes when you do realize that life is going on. The world doesn’t stop when we are gone, and while each and every one of us would admit that we want to see life continue on after we depart, hopefully springing from the relationships we have cultivated with others, it still hurts.

I have lost things because of the death of Jennifer Cakert. The loss of her friendship took with it that of Mysfit and Oldben, who understandably found that to truly heal they needed to move on. We have all lost the photography and poetry and conversations that would have happened over these last few years. It is important to remember that. But I have gained things as well. Though I do not communicate with her as much as I should, I’ve gained a friend in Jennifer’s mother Cynthia and it has been a true pleasure to be a small part of her life over the last four years. I have gained an appreciation of just how powerful the medium of blogging can be because of the connections you can make with others. And I have gained a new appreciation for the time I have been given, an appreciation that I am reminded of each year on June 22nd. The greatest gift we can give ourselves, and those around us, is a life well lived. What that might mean is different for each one of us, but I think we can agree that it means cherishing our connections with others and cultivating, rather than neglecting, our dreams.

Though you may not have experienced the loss of Jennifer Cakert, many of you in the blogging community have experienced the grief of losing someone whom you became close to through what was once seen as a very impersonal medium. And we have all lost people that we have loved, and unfortunately we will again. Whenever the anniversary of those losses comes around, I think we owe it to ourselves as well as those lost to remember, and to remember well. And we must channel that remembrance into a renewed vigor for life.

As I sit writing this, the evening of June 21st, I cannot help but think about the simple joy I was able to experience this evening. An unexpected call from friends had us stepping out in 90+ temperatures to go watch their young children participate in a swimming meet. It had been a long Monday and it had been a very unpleasantly hot day. We could have just stayed home. But we did not. And we were rewarded with the priceless pleasure of seeing young children give it their all in the pool. One couldn’t help but smile and laugh with the pure unadulterated fun of it all.

“Never for an instant forget the effort to renew your life, to build yourself anew. Creativity means to push open the heavy, groaning doorway of life itself. This is not an easy task. Indeed, it may be the most severely challenging struggle there is. For opening the door to your own life is in the end more difficult than opening the door to all the mysteries of the universe.

But to do so is to vindicate your existence as human beings. Even more, it is the mode of existence that is authentically attuned to the innermost truths of life itself; it makes us worthy of the gift of life.”.

Daisaku Ikeda

Cynthia, Tim, Kylin, and all the rest of Jennifer’s family and friends: You are in my thoughts and prayers in an extra special way today.

Miss you, Jenn See. The fish are still on the move, and where they lead, we will follow.

(under a cherry tree, DC. photo by oldben.)