Death and Jackets

The text came in just after 9pm.

She had been waiting for it, and she knew it probably wasn’t good news.

Jessie hadn’t had much good news over the past few years. Her fiancé passed away two years ago unexpectedly. She had been with him over seven years and in that time, Jessie was every bit his wife as Mark was every bit her husband. Except of course for the legal paperwork declaring it as such.

After his passing, and finding out the hard way that he hadn’t planned for this, or at least not as far as she was concerned, Jessie had the daunting task of figuring out who she is now, and what does she do. And on a more pressing level, where does she go from here – literally. The home they shared now seemed like a stunning echo of what once was. She had spent so much time choosing furniture, picking out paint, and figuring out who to call when the heat broke or when the pipes froze over. Now she sat in his favorite chair in this painfully quiet house, wishing somehow she could just be with him one more time.

Jessie went to her phone to confirm what she already knew was coming.

“The owners decided to sell. I’m so sorry.”

Her stomach dropped. Her heart ached. She wanted just one more year.

The house she found her family had grown to love. Her family consisting of the pets she and Mark so lovingly welcomed into their world. And there were a lot of them. Jessie’s home was perfect for all, complete with a big backyard for the retired racers to stretch their legs.

The text came with the news she was dreading – another move less than a year later, and the arduous process of finding a home that was both suitable to her and the animals, and a homeowner willing to take a chance.

“It will be easier this time,” she kept telling herself. But she knew that really wasn’t true.

After Mark’s passing, Jessie knew her time in their home was limited. How limited was the question she really needed the answer to. Four and a half months. She had just that little amount of time to grieve her beloved, pack up their home, find a new home for her and animals, and breathe.

Breathing. That might have been the hardest part. There were days when a big win was getting her teeth brushed. Jessie’s life with Mark had been all encompassing. From the moment they first spoke at work, they both knew.

Mark had been the dashing President of a small training company. People knew him as Mark the Millionaire. A great guy with this crazy house, a bunch of cars, and an affinity for rock n roll. That suited him just fine. He was, after all, a rock star in his own right.

Mark was enchanted with Jessie’s confidence and charisma, and the dimple on her chin didn’t hurt. Jessie knew she was in trouble when she saw him turn off his phone in order for their conversation not to be interrupted.

But there was a problem. A big problem. Her name was Jan and she was his wife.

Jessie was not interested in married men, and Jessie was respectful of that. She wouldn’t so much as say hello to Mark when they passed in the halls of their small workplace.

It was a long six months that would pass before the problem found its solution—Jan served Mark with divorce papers. Their end was Jessie's beginning.

Now seven years of memories and tchotchkes and pets and life would need to be packed up. Then unpacked. And eventually packed again. She had hoped she’d have more than one year before that eventual repacking.

But that text told her otherwise. The beautiful house she thought she could breathe in, at least for a bit, now had a limit on it similar to the one she had the year before.

There were some differences now. Jessie was over a year into her grief. Time has a way of healing things, which many people had been telling her, but she had discovered that was true. Gone were the days of crying all day every day. Sure she still has her moments, but now they’re far less often and finish much quicker.

With eight weeks before Jessie and her beloved pets have to leave, she begins the arduous task of repacking. One can speculate all day as to why Mark didn’t make sure Jessie and their pets would be ok in an event such as his untimely death. Jessie certainly spent a great deal of time thinking about it. It made the grieving process that much more difficult. She had given up her job to make a home and a life for Mark and their family. How could he leave her without a home or the means for her to get own?

When Jessie moved from their home the prior year, she had taken everything. All of his clothes, his collections, their furniture, everything. As if taking all these things could somehow bring him back.

A year later she had clearer vision. If Jessie had to move, she definitely wanted (and needed) to lighten her load. She knew she needed to start with Mark’s belongings. The spring before his passing, Mark had gone on a jacket-buying binge. 17 jackets in total were delivered to their home. They would be the first to go.

With no experience at all, Jessie began taking pictures of the coats and uploading to sell. The jackets were quick to go, giving Jessie some extra grocery money from time to time.

For her, it was more about not taking these things with her than trying to make a few bucks. With each jacket that sold, there was a small loss for Jessie. Although she was happy not to be bringing these things with her to her next home, she felt as though she mailing a piece of her beloved Mark to a stranger. Then there was the ongoing battle of which box she could squeeze the jacket into to get the most bang for her shipping buck.

It seemed with every jacket she put in the mail, the more defeated she was feeling. Mark was a millionaire. Jessie wanted to for nothing. On her wrist she wore watches that were always at least $5,000. Jessie proudly wore her Gucci bags everywhere-even on a Target run. She was his love, his partner, his caretaker, and his life.

Every friend and family member told Jessie how much Mark loved her and how she was his savior, his light. Given all this, why did she have to look for a house? Again? And why did she have to spend her spare time selling and shipping his jackets?

After a few weeks, however, Jessie got the hang of jacket selling on the Internet. Mondays and Wednesdays she would post new items. Tuesdays and Thursdays she went to the post office, shipping tape in hand.

When she received notice that Mark’s rescue parka had sold, Jessie was elated. This jacket was by far the biggest, longest, puffiest coat Mark had. Good riddance.

Jessie took the coat out of the closet. Such a shame she thought as she took the coat off the hanger and lied it on the bed. The price tags were still on it as well as the tissue protecting the zippers. Mark had worn it but one time-when he tried it on after it was delivered. She remembered how excited he was to have it, and he got matching ladies version so they could match. Sadness overwhelmed Jessie.

Jessie’s process for delivering the coats had become robotic. There were never any surprises with the coats. How could there be? Most of them still had price tags on them, and even those that didn’t, Jessie knew Mark never wore them. Checking the pockets (just in case!) seemed both trivial and OCD at the same time. Still she did it.

Jessie gave a big exhale and opened up the coat. Two inside pockets-clear. Zip up the main zipper. Outside pockets, unzip, check, rezip.

“Ooooh!” Jessie said cutely when she discovered a zip pocket on the left shoulder of the parka.

“I never noticed this before.” Even in her grief, Jessie always noticed clever detailing on clothing.

As usual, Jessie checked the pocket, expecting nothing as usual. Only this time, she pulled out a strange little black notebook.

“What is this?”

This was an extraordinary find considering Mark was the only owner of the coat and he definitely didn’t keep notebooks – that was Jessie’s thing!

She took the notebook and went to the couch to sit and examine it. Jessie was excited about getting a new notebook. Maybe this will be “The Notebook” that leads to the story she always talks about writing. That fantasy lasted about 15 seconds before she opened the first page and saw Mark’s handwriting.

“Jessie-My Sweet Pea. This is for you”

Her heart felt like it could come out of her chest. The words on page blurred as she felt her eyes well up with tears. She grabbed a tissue and turned the page. “Jessie, if you are reading this, I have passed. And probably some time ago. I hope by the time you find this you are an old lady, maybe the oldest lady. And we got married and there was so much happiness. I never want you to want for anything. You are my light. You saved me at a time when I wasn’t so sure. I write this on December 23, 2014. I plan on proposing to you in two days. Although we’ve talked about it and you know it’s coming, I’m still nervous. I love you so much.

“Hopefully I've done will give you plenty for a new purse and a vacation on which to show it off. But I know better than anyone that life can throw us curveballs. In case of that, I hope this helps and I'm sorry I didn't do better by you.

"This is just a start of something much bigger I want to do for you.

“Anyway, at the back of this book you will find a key. This key will open a safety deposit box at 1St Bank and Trust on Main. It is in your name Beautiful Jessie. Inside it, you will find some of my mother’s jewelry (do with it what you will), a few gold bars, savings bonds, and $20,000 in cash. My love for you grows deeper every day, and I look forward to our future together.

“All My Love, Your Mark”

It might not have been enough to buy her a house, but it was all she’d ever need for peace.