A Day of Determination

Last night, as I was driving home, my favorite quote by Elder Neil A. Maxwell kept running through my head: "Act now, so that a thousand years from now, when you look back at this moment, you can say this was a moment that mattered--this was a day of determination." (New Era, 1975)

When I look back on the road I have traveled down these many months I feel two emotions: shock, and awe. Shock at how far I've come, and awe that it didn't kill me. By all accounts, it should have.

I feel I have aged exponentially. I can see it in my face, and feel it in my body. I'm a bit more tired, a bit more still. More contemplative and less carefree. Basically, I am a sixty year old widow trapped in a twenty-five year old's body. I managed to pack a lifetime of experiences into a mere seven months ... seven months that feel like seven million years.

And yet, like standing at the top of a mountain and looking down at the treacherous, rocky trail below, I can't believe I've survived. Quite honestly, there were nights when I wished I wouldn't. But against all odds, I'm still here. I'm a little worse for wear. My painful, horrifying bruises have not yet healed. ... But I'm here. And that is a bit of a marvel.

These were the thoughts that brought Elder Maxwell's beautiful words to my mind. This was a moment that mattered. This was a day of determination. It was as if a warm, inviting light was thrown over the dark abyss I have been living in. I laughed and I cried and I channeled my Jamie as I thought, "I am Jessie friggin Patel! I can do this!" Tears streamed down my face but they were a different kind of tear than the kind I've become acquainted with lately. They were ... weirdly triumphant.

This is a moment that matters.

This is a day of determination.

I can do this.

This grief, this sadness, this darkness will not overtake me. I am Jessie friggin Patel. I can do this.

And I know that I can because this strength is not my own. I have never known with more conviction and authority than I do now, that my Father in Heaven loves me. That sounds so trite but there is no other way to state that simple truth. I know that he walks beside me. I know that he watches over me with care and concern on those nights when I break down alone on the bathroom floor. And I know he sends me bugs with specific abilities when I need them. Many of you aren't even aware that you are a bug, but trust me. You were brought into my life for a reason. And for that, I am thankful.

I have unwavering faith in the fact that there is a plan for me. I am not quite sure what that is yet. I'm hoping that perhaps an angel will appear in my kitchen one evening and minister unto me. Or perhaps I'll receive some sort of certified letter from beyond the veil (... I need to go check my mail!). I imagine it glowing and white, sitting inside my tiny little mailbox. And a chorus of cherubim would sing when I open the letter. A deep, soothing voice would speak from the page (heavenly letters read themselves, you know), saying something like, "Jessie Patel," (heavenly voices don't say "friggin"), "Here is the direction and purpose for which you have been waiting." Only it would be more eloquent. Heavenly voices speak eloquently.

But angels and holy correspondence aside, I have never doubted that this is the way my life is supposed to go. And while that doesn't make it easy, or even easier, it gives me strength in those times that I falter.

I am Jessie friggin Patel, and I can do this ... but not alone.

I have learned to rely on my Father and my Savior over these past months in a way I did not understand was possible. I feel their influence in every aspect of my life. I am humbled. And this evening, I have such gratitude in my heart that I cannot find a word to describe it.

Earlier tonight I went out to dinner with a friend. As I spoke to him about my brother Tommy and the success he was having on his mission, I was overcome with a sudden and unexpected wave of grief for my lovey, who was always a missionary. My heart sped up and my vision blurred. I felt the darkness creeping in and the Crazy Jessies fighting to take over inside me. I was completely blindsided by this abrupt and aggressive attack on my system.

As the WFO (Widow Freak Out) was building inside me, I looked down at my plate and took a deep breath. This is a moment that matters. This is a day of determination. I completely surprised myself when instead of the wailing, wrenching sobs of Psychotic Jessie, silent tears slipped easily down my cheeks. I was relatively calm, and was able to relate a story of my Jamie and the incredible missionary he was ... is.

In that moment, I know it was the familiar, still, small voice that brought that calmness to my soul. What a miracle. And, as Tommy would say, "Miracles happen here every day."

With my Savior's help, and a bit of determination, perhaps I can turn into the Dignified Widow after all.

"Act now, so that a thousand years from now, when you look back at this moment, you can say this was a moment that mattered--this was a day of determination."

From All of Us, To You

It has almost been five months since my lovey left me. It has been exactly four months since my last post. Time flies when you are in denial.

In the days and weeks following Jamie's accident, I felt compelled to write. I had so many thoughts, and so many memories, I felt I had to put them down ... make them known. I needed something tangible, to prove it was real.

But then I spiraled down into a deep, dark, terrifying place in my mind. I waited, night after night, for my Jamie to come home. I sat in the bathtub while the shower water pounded down around me, staring at the tiles as if they'd tell me where he'd gone. I was comatose.

My mind was so broken down I actually convinced myself that if I quit writing about it, it would stop being real. And I believed it. So I abandoned my blog. I ignored emails and most phone calls. I left my bedroom, closing the door on that part of my heart and my mind. I would spend subsequent nights on the couch, the floor, or with friends. I was too scared to go in that room alone.

And now, four months have passed--in the blink of an eye and yet at a snail's pace, somehow. I cannot explain it. There is a large portion of this year I cannot account for. How could it be July already?

I am a different person now. Not a better person, or a healthier person, or even a half-way normal person. Just a different person. This person is still so lost, and confused. And horribly, terribly, tragically sad. I wish I had a better word to describe it. I like to think I am a decent writer. I am a teacher. I love language and words are exciting to me. But the only word I can find to describe how I feel is "sad". Infinitely sad.

I feel like this person I have become has multiple personalities. I refer to them as personalities rather than moods because each is keenly aware of the others. None ever controls me completely. But there is always one that takes center stage, and the rest of us sit back and calmly watch the drama unfold.

Numb Jessie is the personality I am most intimately acquainted with, as I see her most often. You can recognize her by that glazed over look in her eyes. She is the one that spends hours a day sitting on the couch, "watching" television. (I say "watching" because she usually can't recall what she has seen.) Numb Jessie finds herself at Target with no recollection of driving there. She goes through the motions of daily life without hardly feeling anything at all. Numb Jessie appears when I cannot cope ... which is most of the time. You will often see Numb Jessie on Sundays. Church is difficult for us.

Psychotic Jessie is completely unreasonable, but kind of fun (if you are into the manic type). Numb Jessie does not approve of her at all. She is hyper energized, and unpredictably emotional. She laughs too loud at things that aren't funny. She zips around the apartment cleaning like a crazy person. She yells, screams, and screeches over the smallest little infraction. It doesn't take much to tip her over the edge, in one direction or another. Psychotic Jessie sobs. Not many of the personalities cry, but Psychotic Jessie does. She sobs mournfully, but only when we are alone. She is certifiably insane.

There are many more of us. Angry Jessie is scary. Watch out for her. She has fire in her eyes and takes no prisoners. Just ask the office staff at our apartment complex! Fake Jessie thinks everything is normal ... Jamie is not gone, life does not suck, and breathing is not painful. (Fake Jessie and Psychotic Jessie have been known to trigger each other.) Defiant Jessie makes idiotic choices to feel she has regained control. She chooses not to eat, she chooses not to sleep. But gosh darnit she feels powerful. Compulsive Jessie binges on things she believes might make her feel better--Cheez-its, Cadburry Eggs, shoes. Compulsive Jessie is unpredictable and highly unstable. But I suppose we all are.

Then there is the Dignified Widow. She is not so much a personality as a role that all the others have rehearsed. Do not be fooled: this woman is not one of the Jessies. She is an imposter. A fake, a sham, a performance for the rest of you who are not equipped to deal with, or should not be exposed to, the Jessies and their drama.

If I ever seem composed, you are not speaking with us, you're speaking with the Dignified Widow. She is the woman you may have seen at the funeral. She wears high heels and has impeccable make up. Her clothes are not wrinkled, her hair is not out of place, and she speaks softly. She smiles easily. She seems like a woman who is better and stronger for what she has suffered. We hate the Dignified Widow. She is nothing more than a facade. The Jessies wear pajama pants and have a bad case of bed head. We are freakishly emotional. Maybe we're jealous of the DW. But we hate her all the same.

Tonight, I am Hurt Jessie. Hurt Jessie feels the pain. She is one of the criers. Oddly, she is also the most honest of us all. For Hurt Jessie, the world feels raw. But the beautiful thing about Hurt Jessie is that she is willing to open her bruised heart for you to look into. Hurt Jessie aches and is not afraid to talk about it. She embraces the sickness.

Hurt Jessie led me to the computer tonight and told me it was time to start writing again. Not because I'm prepared to deal with this, or because I have accepted this situation, but because it is time. I am not sure what the outcome will be. Whether this blog will help me, or someone else, I cannot say. It will probably be ugly, and embarrassing, and very, very scary. But Hurt Jessie told me to write ... and she had such pain in her eyes, I could not tell her no.

Bugs with Specific Abilities

During that first week, my ward was (and continues to be) amazing. The Relief Society mobilized quickly, and before I knew it, we had a regular buffet of delicious dinners covering my counter tops. The amount of love, and food, was staggering. Funny how I had never really considered the poignancy of the name until now ... Relief Society. I couldn't agree more.

There were lots of plans to make, phone calls to place, and choices to decide that week. I was overwhelmed. My beautiful, wonderful sisters reported for duty the moment they heard the news, traveling from all parts of the country. They were assembled in my little apartment, waiting to take orders. One of them, my fabulous Kristin, remarked, "Can I help with anything? I feel all I've done is eat." As I thought of the casseroles stacking up in my fridge, and the ones that would surely be delivered that night, I told her, "That's exactly what I need you to do right now!"

Then it was Liss who chimed in with what has since become a kind of mantra for the six of us ... "It's like that movie, A Bug's Life. 'We've been waiting for bugs with your specific abilities!'" It was the first good laugh I'd had all day.

We have since discovered that while the exact quotation may be off, the sentiment remains the same, and we prefer our version anyway. If you are not familiar with the movie, you can view the clip here. The actual instance occurs around the three minute mark, if you are short on time.

These past few weeks I have been blessed by many bugs that have specific abilities. My brother-in-law works for IBM and was able to pull the data off Jamie's laptop ... which was, quite literally, in pieces. A neighbor, and member of my ward, is a graphic designer who created a beautiful program for Jamie's service, complete with a custom designed photo of mine and Jamie's temple (Draper Utah). I have bugs with financial abilities that have blessed me with security. I have bugs that respond quickly and without question to tearful midnight phone calls that begin with, "My sisters were just robbed at gun point!"

There are bugs that ran my classroom for me while I was gone: the fabulous and unmatchable Meta Mason--who not only created her own lesson plans from scratch, but also graded, filed, and led my kiddos in a winning march in the Storybook Parade--and also my amazing 4th grade team who have held my hand every step of the way.

There are bugs that know when to call. There are bugs that know when to text. There are also bugs that know when not to call or text. There are bugs that stood out in the raging maelstrom at Jamie's graveside, literally bearing up the flowers against an awesome and insurmountable force. Come hell or high water, those boys stood by Jamie till the end. It was their specific ability.

And then there are my sisterbugs. Oh, the sisterbugs. There is no shortage of them. I am one child out of seven in my family--six of us being girls. (Brotherbug is on a mission, serving honorably as Jamie did, and was not with us that week. But his thoughts and prayers were.)

I have tried to verbalize my gratitude to them for all they did that week, and continue to do now. They were cleaning bugs, phone bugs, decision bugs, comfort bugs, secretary bugs ... even eating bugs! But words fail me. I do not possess the language to accurately depict the depth and emotion I feel toward my lovely little lady bugs.

It is the small things--leaving a note in my make up drawer for me to find later, or eating a cherry dipped cone in honor of Jamie, gestational diabetes be damned! And it is also the big things--reading a eulogy, cold, in front of a congregation (of definite hundreds) of people. It is sitting cross-legged on the floor next to me during an Indian ceremony. It is accompanying me to a three hour hair appointment. It is triumphantly navigating the intricacies of a Mac, and ferreting out every last photo of Jamie on the internet.

It is leaving their own husbands and children behind to come be with me and my husband.

They are my sisterbugs, and I know Jamie was happy to see them here, bracing me up and shielding me through those awful, dark days. Where, oh where, would I be without my sisterbugs.

I am so blessed.

I wish that I could properly thank all the bugs in my life, but it's just not possible. They are too numerous, too selfless, and too elusive. But if you are reading this, you are a bug.

And you have specific abilities.

And I thank you.

Eulogy

The first night I met Jamie was April 23^rd, 2008. I was moving into a new apartment and asked a dear friend of mine to round up some guys from the new ward to help with the heavy lifting. Jamie, always eager and willing to serve, was one of those faithful young men. Our interactions were brief that night, but his wit and humor shown through even then as he gallantly struggled up and down my stairs with what he referred to as a “thousand pound dining table”.

Over the coming weeks, months, and years I learned more about this man I fell in love with. He was born on April 27^th, 1983 … on the same day as me, only two years earlier. He was the youngest of three children and had lived in Mesa, Arizona all of his life. His family tells of what a happy, easy going, and inquisitive baby he was. Jamie was curious and climbed on everything. His parents were safe and smart and tried their best to keep things out of his reach. And yet, they still found him eating peanut butter out of the jar with a steak knife. There was no stopping Jamie.

He was a child, and a man, without fear. When he was five, his parents decided to build a pool in the backyard. Looking at an overhang on the roof one day, they had the revelation that though Jamie was young, he would eventually be jumping off that roof into the pool. They demanded it be dug extra deep. The contractors assured them that the pool was regulation depth for the diving board they had planned, but the Patels said, “No, you don’t understand. Extra deep.” And, as predicted, Jamie went on to have a long career of jumping from the roof.

He began playing the saxophone in 4^th grade and continued all through high school. He played in both the jazz and marching bands. He spoke fondly of these times and I heard all about his misadventures and escapades with his band buddies. Only months ago Jamie decided he wanted to go to his parent’s house in Mesa and pick up his saxophone. I made the journey with him, not thinking much of it. After all, it had been eight years since he had played and I thought he was being more sentimental than anything else. I couldn’t imagine he could actually still play. We returned home that night and I went into our bedroom and shut the door. Moments later I heard the sweetest, most beautiful tones wafting through the door. I layed still and listened for a bit, completely in awe of this man that I had married, who excelled at everything. It was as if he never put it down.

Jamie’s interest in planes was insatiable from the beginning. Even as a small child, he would head directly for the aircraft section in any bookstore. Before long, his interest became Navy specific. At the age of six, he made the conscious decision to become a naval aviator. It was a goal that guided him through the rest of his life.

In high school, he joined the Air Force JROTC because the Navy did not have a program at his school. He made the choice to attend South Mountain, which was a magnet high school for aviation. This required him to take two buses just to get to school every day. He soon discovered that South Mountain was not the place for him and returned to Westwood where he graduated in 2001.

Jamie received a scholarship from the Air Force and a nomination for appointment to the Air Force Academy from Senator Jon Kyle. It seemed as if his dream was in reach. But the Navy was his love, and the F-14 Tomcat was his siren. He turned down the appointment in favor of enlisting in the Navy.

This decision was difficult for everyone to comprehend … why, when he was so close to achieving his dream of becoming a fighter pilot, would he walk away? His parents tried to discuss it at length with him and explain the magnitude of his decision. In typical Jamie fashion, he was unwavering. He told his mother, “The end goal is the same. You want me to take one train, and I’m going to take this one instead, but they both stop at the same place.”

That train took him to Atsugi, Japan, where he was attached to VFA-192, the World Famous Golden Dragons, and the USS Kitty Hawk. He worked as an avionics technician and quickly became specialized in repairing and maintaining FLIR pods on the F-18 Super Hornet. (FLIR is the system that locates targets and guides missiles.) Jamie was an integral part of Operation Iraqi Freedom.

Those first few years in the Navy, Jamie felt as if he didn’t belong. He watched as his fellow sailors went to bars, caroused with women, got tattoos, and caused general mayhem. Jamie was a grown man, overseas, and had no one to stop him from behaving the same way. But he knew it wasn’t right. He described nights of lying awake in his bunk, thinking that there had to be more to life than what he was seeing all around him.

Aboard the carrier, each faith received an hour a week to worship in the ship’s chapel. Jamie was fellowshipped by a few members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and began attending their humble little service while on a three month deployment aboard the Kitty Hawk. Upon returning to the base at Atsugi, he was invited to continue going to church with the members at their small little branch.

It wasn’t long before several wonderful young men found Jamie—American guys serving full-time missions for the church in Japan. One of them shared his journal entry with me from that night. “We taught the Joseph Smith experience to a young kid named Jamie. He is in the military. He seems to be really strong and wants to be baptized. He seems to take in everything we teach him. He accepted the invitation to pray about the experience and he accepted happily. What an amazing kid.”

These missionaries have stayed close to Jamie over the years. They were with us in the temple that beautiful day in June, and they are here in the congregation today. I asked them to share some of the experiences they had teaching Jamie. One of them writes, “From the time I first meet Jamie up to his baptism every lesson was like [the first]. Every time we talked he thirsted for more. He always had questions and he always accepted what we were teaching him. I guess you could say Jamie was Golden. Jamie was a breath of fresh air for me. And if it were not for him I may not have stayed out on my mission. I was struggling with the language and trying to adjust to being in Japan was very hard. But to be able to teach Jamie and really watch his testimony grow in the gospel helped my own testimony grow even stronger. I truly believe that he is the reason I endured to the end and stayed on my mission, and I will thank him to this day and will always be grateful for his example to me.”

Another writes, “It is not very often that someone you teach and see progress and enter the waters of baptism becomes an example to you. This is exactly what Jamie is to me.”

On January 18^th, 2003, Jamie was baptized. The same elder wrote the following in his journal that night. “Today was Jamie’s baptism, what a wonderful day. Feelings can’t describe how happy I am right now. To see Jamie make commitments and keep them and have the spirit testify to him of the truthfulness of the gospel is such a wonderful experience. You can tell in his voice as he boar his testimony that he knows it is true and he will be a strong member in the church. Man I love this kid.”

Jamie continued to progress in the church and soon expressed a desire to serve a full-time mission himself. He completed his four-year enlistment with the Navy, and submitted his mission papers in 2005. He was called to serve in Korea Seoul West. Those years, from 2005-2007 were among the best in his life.

The mission did not come easy for Jamie. It was a true trial of faith. He writes in his journal of his struggles—with the language, with the people, with himself. But through those struggles his testimony grew, and he changed from a man who believed to a man who knew. On May 11, 2006, he writes to himself, “Remember, oh remember, Jamie D. Patel, that you know there is a God, a father of your spirit. Where he is, is of no concern to you right now because he is in heaven and you are not. So it’s enough to say that he exists and loves you more perfectly than anyone you have ever or will ever know. You are his son! He has created and prepared you. He knows you better than you know yourself. You would not be where you are today had it not been for intimate knowledge of your soul, the experiences he has given you, the influence of the spirit, and your agency. Would you have been baptized had you not been in the Navy? Would you not have joined the Navy if you hadn’t gone to South Mountain [High School] and wasted 18 weeks? You know these experiences and you know that they have been exactly what you needed so that you could come to a knowledge of your Heavenly Father and accept his gospel. There is no such thing as coincidence. That is a word made up by the faithless men who assume to know more than God. He loves them too and is preparing them just as he did you. Respect their agency and only believe their words if they are in accordance with the word of God and confirmed by the Holy Ghost, which you have in you as long as you remain worthy of such a blessing.”

I have received countless emails and phone calls from the people whose lives were touched by my dear Jamie in Korea. He was a great man, a spiritual pillar, and a humble servant of our Lord. Jamie had an amazing talent to connect with people, and because of his own background of conversion he was able to relate to the people in ways others could not. His mission certainly changed Jamie, for the better. Near the end of his mission he wrote a letter to his mission president.

“I came on a mission because a man whom I know to be a prophet counseled every young, able bodied man to. I was young. I was able. That was that. My sacrifice to serve was normal, so on faith, I willingly gave. What I lost was more than I expected. Embarrassing, humiliating, and heart-wrenching as it was, my faith was enlarged to encompass it, and the hope that perhaps I might be the means to bring about some good was my fuel. Whether or not I have done any good I do not know, but this much was given to me: a belief, not hinged, influenced, or factored on anyone or anything else, that there is a God, Father, and Creator, and through his prophets I know of his plan and my purpose. It is my belief, it was not purchased or borrowed, and it cannot be lent or sold. It is mine!”

His testimony humbles me.

After returning home from Korea, he spent time working in Mesa and living with his family. In 2008 he moved to Tucson and enrolled in the University of Arizona. That is where our story begins.

Our courtship was quick. We met in April, began dating in September, and were engaged ten weeks later. Jamie was, and still is, a marvel to me. Full of surprises, quick with his wit, and firm in his faith. I was hooked. Jamie wore his heart on his sleeve and unabashedly declared to me and the world, on a daily basis, exactly the way he felt about me.

On December 18^th, 2008, he enlisted the help of my administration, fellow teachers, and students, to propose to me at school. Each one of my dear little students had a part and performed it well. I have never been so shocked, confused, and mystified at once. It was beautiful.

There was never any question that we would be married in the temple. We chose Draper because it was new and we could take his family through before it was dedicated, to help them be part of our special day.

June 6^th, 2009 was the best day of my life. My lovey looked beautiful in white, and as I sat there next to him I could not believe I was about to marry this incredible man. Elder Ringwood, Jamie’s mission president, honored us by joining Jamie and I together for time and all eternity that day. We are sealed together, and our marriage continues, even now. This is a sure and unwavering knowledge that I have, and I know that Jamie has the same.

Jamie wrote me a letter in the temple that morning. It reads, “I thought you were beautiful from the first time I saw you. As the months went by I learned you weren’t just a pretty face, but a beautiful person as well. I asked you to marry me because I thought I loved you. In the temple this morning, when I saw you in your wedding dress, when I looked into your eyes across the altar, when I kissed you as my wife, you have never been more beautiful to me, and I have never loved you more.”

Jamie and I honeymooned in Mexico then returned to Tucson to make our life. And oh, how we laughed. Jamie’s first and foremost priority in life was to take care of me, and his second was to tease me. I cannot count the number of times he was waiting to pop out at me from behind the shower curtain. I would scream, jump ten feet in the air, and he would fall to the floor, clutching his side and laughing like crazy.

He always kept me on my toes. I remember once opening the freezer and finding a large bumble bee lying on the shelf. “Jamie?” I asked a little suspiciously. “Can you explain this to me?” He told me the bee had been in the house, and he had wanted to kill it humanely. I almost agreed with him until he admitted that he had to “disable it with a textbook” before he could get it into the freezer. Later that night I found the frozen little bee out on our counter, and Jamie was examining it curiously. With my tweezers, I might add. All I could do was laugh.

The next day I came home and a bee was flying around the house. I was convinced his little frozen friend had been resurrected, and called him to report the news. He rushed home, and after an initial examination it was determined it was not his brave little friend from the night before, but a comrade of his instead. I am sure he ended up in the freezer as well.

Jamie loved to work with his hands. He loved tools and reveled in being able to do little jobs around the house. I mentioned off hand once that the switches in the bathroom bothered me … the fan came first instead of the light. By the time I got home the next day, he had rewired them. He installed a rod in our laundry room for my clothes, and a shelf for our food storage. He stayed up all night once building lamps for me out of tiki torches that we purchased at Home Depot for three dollars. He was particularly proud when he found light bulbs that looked like fire.

And it wasn’t just for me. Jamie was always generous and eager to serve. It’s ten o’clock on a school night and you’re painting your bedroom? No problem! Jamie will be there with bells on. Need someone to watch your kids? Jamie will bring his basketball. Moving? Jamie can pack a box with precision, and never met a flight of stairs he couldn’t maneuver with a couch in tow. Jamie is an incredible example of service and Christ like love.

Just as my students last year came to know him, my students this year loved him too. He would come into my classroom on Fridays to grade papers, organize my files, and keep my kiddos in line. Whenever he walked through the door they would start wiggling in their seats because they were so excited to see him. He knew each of them by name … and even in alphabetical order.

He also charmed my office staff. It was a frequent sight to see Jamie signing in around lunch time, with homemade lunches in tow. When tragedy struck a fellow staff member, he wanted to be a first responder. He asked me daily, “How is she? What does she need? What can we do?” Jamie recognized that because we did not yet have children, we were in a position to help and serve others that we may not have later in life, and he took full advantage of it.

Earlier this month we celebrated our eight month anniversary. As I was falling asleep that night I told him, “I love you eight months more than the day I married you.” He looked at me with the sweetest, sincerest little smile, gently shook his head and replied, “Not possible.”

My husband is a great and mighty man who brought laughter and joy to many people’s lives … most of all, mine. I am humbled at the honor and privilege I had, and have, to stand next to this amazing man. I am thankful for the things he taught me, and the ways he guided me. I will never be the same. I have a more perfect understanding of the gospel and the atonement, and I look forward with faith to the day that I will be by his side once more, serving in our Father’s kingdom together. I echo my husband's words when he said, “My joy is full and it is hard to see how I could be blessed with more.”

Obituary

Jamie's obituary was published yesterday. You can link to it here, or read it below. It was written by Tina Baker, Jamie's sister, and her husband Chris. They did a beautiful job.

Jamie D. Patel of Tucson, Arizona was taken from us suddenly on February 11, 2010. Jamie was born on April 27, 1983 in Mesa, Arizona. Jamie was raised in Mesa and graduated from Westwood High School where he was active in JROTC and played the saxophone in the marching and jazz bands. He served four years in the US Navy and was aboard the USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) for three of these years. He then served honorably for two years in the Korea Seoul West Mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (L.D.S.). Upon returning to Arizona and moving to Tucson he met Jessie, the love of his life, and they were married for time and all eternity on June 6, 2009, in the Draper Utah L.D.S. Temple. Jamie was a student at the University of Arizona and planned to rejoin the Navy in 2011 to fulfill his childhood dream of becoming a Naval Aviator. Jamie was a loving and wonderful husband, son, brother, grandson, uncle, nephew, cousin and friend. He had a way of turning friends into family and charmed everyone he met with his infectious smile and unique sense of humor. Jamie had a kind and generous spirit and was always eager to help anyone in need. His laughter and joyfulness will be missed deeply by his family and countless friends, all of whom were blessed to have known him. Jamie's unwavering devotion to his family, friends, faith and country will continue to be an inspiration to us all. Jamie is survived by his wife, Jessica Patel; his parents, Jean and Dilip Patel; his siblings, Tina Baker and Neil Patel; as well as his grandmother, Geraldine Young. Family and friends may attend a viewing on Friday, February 19 from 6:00-8:00 p.m. at BRING'S BROADWAY CHAPEL on East Broadway Blvd. in Tucson. Services will be held at the L.D.S Campbell Ward on Saturday, February 20, 2010 with visitation from 9:45 to 10:45 a.m. followed by a Memorial Service at 11:00 a.m. Interment will take place at the Binghampton Cemetery 4001 N. Alvernon Way. Military honors will be presented at the graveside.

Thoughts from Jamie's Journals

I've been lost in Jamie's mission journal these past few nights. It has been a great comfort to read his words. His testimony, his love for the gospel, his insight, and his humor never cease to amaze me.

My favorite entry so far begins, "Heavenly Father just sucker-punched me and I completely and utterly let him." Oh, Jamie! I've never met anyone that can make me laugh the way you do, even now. The very next sentence reads, "I am in awe of the perfectness of His work." What a humble husband I have.

In his journal, I also discovered a list of the top fifty things he wanted to do before he died. While I knew of some of his aspirations (we are all familiar with the swimming pool full of jello), I had no idea such a list existed. Here are a few of my favorites ...

#7. Find a hottie [I'm not joking, it really does say that. And in parenthesis next to it, it states, "not in a shallow way" ... I love you, Jamie. Your wit continues to bring me happiness.]
#8. Make a family with my hottie
#10. Be a pilot.
#16. Have a CD collection comparable to John Cusak's in High Fidelity. [I have never seen this movie. Someone will have to tell me if he accomplished this. I think he has a good shot. Jamie's CD collection is staggering.]
#18. Publicly bust out in a choreographed dance. [Does our living room count?]
#26. Use a fire extinguisher, for reals. [That is a direct quote.]
#33. Meet a prophet/president of the church
#38. Buy a horse in Mongolia

Number thirty-eight strikes me as particularly poignant because it is such a specific goal. Not "ride a horse". Not "visit Mongolia". Not even "ride a horse in Mongolia". No, my lovey--for reasons known only to him--had a driving desire to purchase an equestrian beast in the somewhat random location of Mongolia. I think I know what I have to do here. I must travel to Mongolia and buy a horse for him. It's the only reasonable thing to do in this type of situation.

Oh, Jamie. You amaze me.

While I am feeling a little 'sucker punched' myself these days, I echo the words of my incredible husband when I say that I, too, am in awe at the perfectness of His work. I am not sure why this has happened, but I do know that I was prepared for this moment. And now I am finding the strength and courage that I need in Jamie's writing.

I leave you with an excerpt that has left an imprint on my soul. It was written on the 29th of September, 2005 ... long before he met me. But I cannot help but feel these words were meant to give me guidance.

"Do not give up. Do not stop before the line, sprint past it. Do not consign yourself to apathy because a goal is in sight. It doesn't matter how tight you pulled a line if you allow slack in at the last moment. Moore yourself to the iron rod and receive all the promised blessings from Heavenly Father now, and the blessings of eternal life and exaltation in the time to come."

I will hearken to the counsel of my husband. I will not give up.

A Tribute

This video was created by Jamie's cousins. Thank you. It brings a stillness to my soul.

My Jamie

I have not updated this blog in nearly a year. After the wedding, my life with Jamie was just too exciting to spend precious moments tapping away on the keyboard. Instead we laughed and loved and staged Iron Chef battles in our kitchen. (The secret ingredient was lime.)

On Thursday morning my precious lovey was taken from me in a fatal car accident. He was on his bike, Lolita. (She was the other woman in his life!) He was heading south on Campbell Avenue when a car heading north made a left turn and failed to yield. I have been assured that he died instantly and felt no pain.

I feel a deep sorrow for the loss of my best friend and husband, but no remorse for the circumstances. He loved his motorcycle and was always safe and smart. That morning he had taken all the precautions--he was wearing his helmet and his road jacket, and since I have been unable to find them here at the house, he must have had his gloves on as well. Riding his bike was as close to flying as he could get on the ground, and as you all know, my lovey was a pilot. In his heart and in his mind, that was who he was.

I have so many things I need to write. Memories and scenes from our life together are flowing through my mind. I ask that you will indulge me and support me over the coming days, weeks, months, and years as I record those special times here.

If you would like a little glimpse into Jamie's life, he also had a blog that he updated sparsely. You can find it here. His humor, his goofiness, and his zest for life shine loudly through the words that he has written. My baby could always make anyone laugh.

I know there are so many of you that have been touched by my sweet Jamie. We are all better for knowing him ... me in particular. I will never be the same, and that is a great blessing. Jamie made me a better woman.

If you would like to attend the services, the information is as follows.

• Viewing at Bring's Funeral Chapel (6910 e. Broadway), Friday the 19th, from 6 pm to 8 pm.
• Additional viewing at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Campbell Ward Building: 3750 e. Fort Lowell Road) on Saturday the 20th from 9:45 am to 10:45 am.
• Funeral service to follow, in the church, beginning at 11:00 am.
• Graveside service and military honors directly after, at Binghampton Cemetery (4001 n. Alvernon Way)

I thank you all for standing with me at this time. I know Jamie is grateful for the support that I have. He would not want it any other way.

The Long Awaited Volume Two

Sorry fans and family, I have been remiss in posting updates. Here is a quick continuation of wedding day wonderfulness.

After the ceremony and photos at the Draper temple, we headed to a hotel in Provo where Jamie's parents hosted a beautiful luncheon for us. Below is one of my all time favorite photos of the occasion.

I believe we are munching down on an Indian sweet called ... barfi? (Jean, you'll have to help me with that one!) That lovely little lady in the background is Sophie, my favorite little bridesmaid. The pink fabric draped on the wall is what the bridesmaid dresses were crafted from.

After the lovely lunching, we were headed south to glorious Nephi for our ring ceremony and reception. It was held at the Old Mill, which is this amazing outdoor venue. It had a little creek running through it, and it was so green and lusciously wooded. There was a water wheel that gave it a great old-timey feel.

Jamie and I decided to have a ring ceremony due to the number of family members that were unable to join us for the sealing. We had a few speakers and exchanged rings, but didn't do vows or anything like that because we had already been married for about six or seven hours at that point.

My dad was kind enough to capture the ring ceremony on video for us. I've tried numerous times to post it, but apparently iMovie, YouTube, and Blogger all hate me. If I figure it out I will definitely get it up here. My little sister Staci, the maid of honor, gave an amazing performance, not to be missed. Love you, Shnooks :)

Our cake was awesome and one of the most Jessie-esque things about the wedding, I think. The following picture doesn't do it justice, but it's fabulous anyhow.

I know I say this about every picture, but this one of mi madre and me is definitely one of my favorites. Definitely scrapbookable.

After the festivities wound down, we let the professionals deal with the clean up and Jamie and I headed to Provo for the evening. The next day we went back to Nephi to eat some delicious wedding cake leftovers and open our gifts. Then we packed up and my dad drove us to Salt Lake. We stayed at a hotel next to the airport, and were up at 4 a.m. the next morning to catch our flight to Puerto Vallerta. You'll have to read all about our Mexican adventures in my next post!

Greatest Hits, Volume One (GH:V1)

In the first of many blog updates to come, I give you a posting of some of my favorite wedding and pre-wedding photos from early June in Utah.

(And yes, in case you were wondering, I did get the other four dresses finished in time. And when I say "in time" I mean "mere hours before the ceremony". I think I've been traumatized. If I never see that yellow fabric again, it will be too soon.)

Two days before the wedding, we packed up the family and took to the mountains for a little thread-free reverie (let's face it, we were all traumatized by the sewing) and birthday celebration for Angie and Matt.

This photo of Jamie and I in Devil's Kitchen makes me wonder if he was having second thoughts about the upcoming nuptials ...

Luckily I found someone who was willing to give me some love.

... You are a gem Lissie! We wouldn't have survived the weekend without you!

While my niece, Emma, clearly despises custom-made flower girl dresses (don't get me started!), it seems that she appreciates cake-on-a-stick. You go girl.

A few days and several dresses later, Mom, Jamie, and I were off on a death-defying drive to the Draper temple at 8 a.m. on Saturday, June 6th. I think it was rather faith-inspiring for my mother. She's not used to traveling at 100+ mph. I've become quite accustomed to it. My hubby has a lead foot. But at least he's punctual.

The actual ceremony was beautiful, but I'll leave all the ooey-gooey-love talk for another time. Call me, we'll chat. The temple we chose had only been in operation for about two months, and Jamie and I were able to take his family through the open house before it was dedicated. Since they couldn't be with us on the big day, it was neat to be able to show them where the ceremony would be taking place.

Here's one of the very first pictures of us as a wedded couple, captured by our awesome photographer, Larry Reeves. He was imported from Arizona for the occasion.

The facial expressions in that photo are just priceless.

My homegirl, Addie, was waiting outside for us. She refused to come talk to me on her own accord, but she told her daddy that I looked like a princess, and directed him to (and I quote) "take me to her".

She likes to pretend to be shy but I think she just likes to play hard-to-get. Oh, and a shout-out to Liss for my rockin hair do. She's a magician.

Below are a few more pics from photog-extraordinaire, Larry. This is a great shot of the Draper temple, where we were married. (Note Addie lurking in the background ... hehe :)

In keeping with the theme of our relationship, Jamie and I are completely incapable of keeping a straight face during a serious moment. I think we might be twelve years old.


Stay tuned for GH:V2, coming soon. My hubby is feeling neglected and needs some attention. If you'd like to view some more awesome shots from our main man Larry in the meantime, you can scope them out here.