My Aunt Jeri
As I sat at my computer writing Aunt Jeri’s eulogy, trying to condense everything she was into a few short paragraphs, the word HOME kept popping into my head. Home: A place where someone is protected, given shelter, loved, and that is what Jeri Clark was for so many people: a safe place, a refuge, home.
Her house wasn’t fancy. She didn’t have a lot of expensive things. What she did have was love. She loved people, and they loved her. I have never known a person with so many friends. She never met a stranger. She saw the good in everybody. She always said, “I may not be rich, but I’m rich in friends.” She was a people person, and she drew folks to her like a flower draws bees.
She hadn’t seen the world. She rarely ventured farther than West Virginia. She saw the ocean for the first time in 1998 when she was 70 years old. She used to say, “I’m not well-traveled, but if I’m in a rut, it’s a good rut because I’m happy where I am.”
And she was. She loved her home. Nothing made her happier than to be with her family and friends, and everybody wanted to go to Jeri’s house. I can remember as a kid, when Mom would take us to visit her, 9 times out of 10, somebody else would already be there. Aunt Mary and Uncle Jimmy, Uncle Bernard and Aunt Joyce, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Mary Ann, Kay and Mary Margaret…but she always had room for more.
After I moved away, her house was the first place I’d visit when I came home. And after my mom died, her house became home to me. I know Colleen, Jennifer, Angie, Kathy, and Laura would agree that after our parents died, she took us under her wing as her own and, as Colleen said, “she was the one person in the world who made me feel like I still belonged to someone, and she always, always told us how much she loved us.”
She was the most generous person I knew, and I never left her house without something to take home. When I was a kid, she’d look in the cabinet and pull out a Little Debbie’s snack cake or a baggie of pretzels or give me a quarter if she was out of treats. When I became an adult, she’d go look behind the door in the office where she kept her snacks and send me home with candy for my kids or the leftover pizza from lunch. If she had it to give, it was yours, and she was glad for you to have it.
There was no better way to pass the day than to sit around Jeri’s dining room table with a cup of coffee and a Krispie Kreme donut and listen to her stories. She was the best. So animated and so funny. Her stories were legendary, and she had a mind like a trap. She could regale you with tales from her childhood during the Depression when a Mr. Goodbar cost a nickel at Money Penny’s store or life during World War 2, when shoe coupons were rationed, and you’d better not wear your cute cardboard shoes to a movie on 4th Street in the rain or you might be limping home with them flapping behind you. Then there was the time a flying squirrel came down the chimney and was eating Hershey Kisses behind the manger on her mantle. It climbed up the Christmas tree and then onto the drapes to finally hide in the television stand. Mike had to come over and shoo it out with a broom and a laundry basket. Another time she went to get new glasses with Betty Jean, and the parking lot was getting repaved. After the appointment, they went out the back door to avoid the mess out front only to be caught in the middle of more paving. A very large, very friendly, very sweaty construction worker with a bandana around his head and a shirt with no sleeves, swooped her up in his arms princess-style and carried her to the car. Ah those stories!
She wrote poetry and could remember poems she had crafted 20, 30, 40 years ago. She loved Joyce Kilmer’s poem about trees and anything by Helen Steiner Rice. One of her favorite songs was Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.”
She was a life-long democrat and proud of it. In 2008, she voted for Hillary Clinton because she wanted to be able to say she voted for the first woman president. When Hillary lost to Obama in the primaries, she didn’t think she’d get the chance to vote for a woman again, but last November, Colleen and I took her to the polls so she could once again vote for Hillary. It was her dream to see a woman be president of the United States.
Aunt Jeri was the first person I’d call whenever I had something to share. If it was a secret, I knew it was safe with her. I’d say, “Don’t tell anybody this, but…” and she’d say, “You know I won’t! I have secrets I’ll take to my grave!” If it was good news about my kids, I knew I could brag to her, and she would rejoice with me. If I was upset and needed comfort, she would reassure me that it would be okay. If I needed someone to pray for me, she would in earnest. In fact, I think she was the most faith-filled person I have ever met. When she could no longer go to mass, she watched it on TV, sometimes twice on a Sunday. She had her morning prayer and evening prayer that she said every day.
She prayed all the time, but she told me, “I don’t say regular prayers; I just talk to God. He’s my friend.” She always prayed for God’s will, and I don’t know how she was able to do that. I’m still asking him for specifics, but she had enough faith to know that God would take care of her needs. And her faith got her through, especially these last 5 months. I don’t know how many times I heard her say, “God will help me. He’s my friend.”
She missed CJ. They were teenage sweethearts, married for 45 years. He passed 24 years ago, and she still wore her wedding ring.
She loved her children. Donna, Steve, Lisa, Kevin. You were her world, and I know you know she would have done anything to make you happy. Chris, Bo, Nick, and Mindy, she was so proud of you and all of your accomplishments. She talked about you all the time. And you great-grandkids, you were the joy of her life. You always made her smile.
Jeri Clark was a lot of things to a lot of people. Wife. Mother. Sister. Aunt. Cousin. Friend. Confidant. Cheerleader. Therapist. Compass. Glue.
If you were lucky enough to be loved by Jeri, then you know what it is to be the favorite in the room. If you were lucky enough to be loved by Jeri, then you know what it is like to always be welcomed with open arms, a smile, and a cup of coffee. If you were lucky enough to be loved by Jeri, then you know what it is like to be loved unconditionally
To quote Colleen again, “She always made me feel like the sun was shining, and it was shining on me.”
Sharron Hilbrecht
July 1, 2017
The Morning Prayer
Good Morning God,
You are ushering in anther day
untouched and freshly new.
So here I come to ask you, God,
if you'll renew me too.
Forgive the many errors
that I made yesterday, and
let me try again, dear God,
to walk closer in Thy way.
But, Father, I am well aware
I can't make it on my own,
so take my hand
and hold it tight
for I cannot walk alone.
Amen.
