re: Mscoastigergirl . Passed away this morning

thoughts and prayers sent.

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GeauxWarTigers

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Thanks! I just checked in over there. Heartbreak sent me a message last night of the sad news.

Hope you've been well.

Many thoughts and prayers for your family.

I pray that you find comfort during this difficult time.

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I feel like maybe her family could read through posts for closure or when they miss her.

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I wouldn't want my family no where near my post or internet history

Many people on here enjoyed conversing with your daughter, while I don't believe I ever engaged in conversation with her, I do remember paying attention to her name after reading a few of her posts. She was witty, and seemingly well versed in a myriad of subjects.

I read this from a poster on reddit long ago, and I've seen it passed around many times since. I find it to be as true now, as the first time I read it, and I hope you can find some solace in it in this tough time.

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Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here's my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

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man 37 and heart failure. I am 35 and have blood pressure that goes off the charts sometimes. On meds now. But before meds. 180/110 wasn't uncommon. Stuff like this scares me into taking care of my health more.



I hope the best for her and her family 37 is just too young. She was always a solid poster and well liked by all.

Just so sad.

The last post I recall from her was just a couple of days ago, so this must have came out of no where.

Sorry for your loss (OP not the random person I am replying to)

God bless you and your family

Jenn was beloved on this site and I and many others will deeply miss her.

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