Mary Jean Kelly

Our Beautiful Mom

Mom, Ma Mere, Madre, Mother-Mom, Margo, Moira, Gigi, MJ, Weenie, Bellini… or simply, Jeanie. Regardless of what you called her, you knew she was one of a kind. The queen of handing out nicknames to everyone she loved, she collected plenty of her own through the countless friendships and relationships she made over the years. Jeanie had a gift for making people feel special. You could count on her birthday call or text each year, or, if you’re lucky, a performance from Captain Zoom and the Birthday Bear. She never missed an opportunity to tie a jumbo sized “balloonie” to the mailbox, whether celebrating the simplest accomplishment or the grandest of life events. A card was in the mail for every seemingly minuscule occasion, complete with her signature “scribble smiley face” and the words she coined and used so often: “Love you so muchers”. She remembered the little things. She celebrated the little things. And somehow, when Jeanie celebrated you, the little things didn’t feel so little anymore. You could also always count on Jeanie for a good laugh. The same stories were told time and time again, and somehow they never got old – like the time she left her little brother Mike in the car while illegally parked so she could make a “quick” shopping trip into AM&A’s, only for Mike to happily wave to the police officer leaving a ticket on the windshield. Or the vacation that began with an overpacked suitcase bursting open and its contents spilling across the airport as she desperately tried to meet the weight limit. Jeanie never did anything halfway. She was once a crazed Donny Osmond fan who followed his tour bus around hoping to catch even the slightest glimpse of him, only to later become completely obsessed with Ozzy Osbourne – a character arc no one could have predicted. She visited one too many estate sales and somehow reached the point of needing to rent a Home Depot truck to transport home her sixth refrigerator. She tried to recreate Brigid’s homemade vodka sauce for a birthday party, got a little heavy handed with the vodka, and served what could only be described as something resembling lighter fluid. She was so excited to gift Brigid a pair of super-cute “high waisted shorts”, that just so happened to be maternity shorts. Then there was the night at Hofbräuhaus, where Jeanie ended up dancing on the tables and somehow managed to get the entire family kicked out of the bar. There were the smaller things, too – the things that weren’t stories until suddenly they were the things we knew we would miss. Her signature scrunched up face as she inspected her hair for even the slightest hint of frizz. Her inability to walk into a grocery store without buying a bunch of bananas or a TJ Maxx without browsing the shoe rack. Dragging all us kids out to the strawberry fields to pick “bell toppers,” singing her ridiculous little made up song while we melted in the summer sun. These were the ordinary moments of life with Jeanie – the kind that seemed insignificant at the time and somehow became the stories we would give anything to live one more time. Jeanie loved a family tradition, and once something became a tradition, there was simply no getting out of it. March 1st meant Free Kone King Day, regardless of what Western New York weather had in store. St. Patrick’s Day meant celebrating in the Old First Ward with the Gormans. Easter meant a trip to the Broadway Market, where every year she had to pick out a special decorated egg to bring home; followed by an Easter egg hunt she continued coordinating long after all of the “kids” were far too old to reasonably be hunting for plastic eggs. The first snowfall of the year meant blasting “And the Bells Rang” loud enough for everyone to know it had officially arrived. Christmas brought an annual trip to see The Nutcracker, and, of course, Christmas Vacation movie night, for which simply showing up to watch the movie would never suffice. Jeanie arrived fully committed to the theme and in costume. Traditions mattered to her because they brought everyone back together, gave us something to look forward to and inevitably, left us with another story to tell. If Jeanie was there, there was a very good chance there was a camera in her hand. Long after everyone else traded their camcorders for iPhones, Jeanie was still behind that little handheld video camera, documenting every teeny tiny detail she deemed worthy of remembering – which was pretty much everything. Birthdays, holidays, school events, vacations, ordinary afternoons and probably far too many moments when the rest of us were begging her to put the camera away. Now, those hours and hours of ordinary life she so faithfully preserved feel like some of the greatest gifts she could have left us. She understood long before we did that the little moments were the big ones. Above all else, Jeanie was the greatest example of what it meant to show up for the people you love. Her Grama used to say, “Presence is the best present of all,” and Jeanie made those words a way of life. You could count on her to be at the thing you told her wasn’t a big deal, but secretly hoped you would look into the crowd and see her smiling face. She was there for celebrations and accomplishments, but she was just as present for the ordinary days and the hard ones. She showed up when it was convenient and, more importantly, she showed up when it wasn’t. Even during the final months of her life, when simply getting out of the house demanded more from her than most of us could understand, she kept showing up – baby showers, kindergarten graduations, baptisms, dance recitals, birthday parties… If someone she loved had a moment worth witnessing, she wanted to be there – and she was. Jeanie was loved endlessly by a family and circle of friends who were lucky enough to receive that love back tenfold. Her loving partner, Mark (“Markster”), stood beside her through the unimaginable and was with her until her last breath. He stayed with her night after night, making sure she was comfortable and cared for, all while keeping the rest of us updated so we could go home and rest knowing she was never alone. There will never be enough words to express what his love and devotion to her meant to all of us. Her kids – Ashley (“Shesh”) and Sean, Brendan (“Pooker Pie”) and Cassie, and Brigid (“Smoochie”) and Dylan – the ones lucky enough to call her Mom. Everything we did to care for her over these last few months was simply a reflection of what she had spent her entire life doing for us. She was the first to volunteer for the class room mom slot, our loudest cheerleader, the person we called with news big or small and one of our very best friends. She made childhood magical in ways we didn't fully appreciate until we got older. She taught us how to celebrate people, how to care for them, how to laugh at ourselves and, most importantly, how to show up. We can only hope to parent our own children half as well as she parented us. Our dad, Kevin, shared 25 years of her life as they raised the three of us, and we are grateful for the support he has given our family throughout these final months. Then came the role that may have been her favorite of all: Gigi. Her grandbabies, Shea (“Shea BABY”), Maeve (“Maevey Train”) and soon-to-arrive Baby Siwy were quite simply her world. She was their number one fan, their playmate, their spoiler and their safe place. She had a way of making dull days fun, rainy days sunny and clean houses messy. While most grandparents might wipe the tiny fingerprints from their appliances and television screens, Gigi asked for them to stay. They had been left there by little hands she loved more than anything, and she saw no reason to erase them. Before she passed, she was entrusted with one final secret: the name of her newest granddaughter, Baby Siwy. It mattered deeply to Brigid and Dylan that Gigi got to know that sweet baby girl in every way she possibly could before she arrived. And someday, that little girl will know exactly how fiercely her Gigi loved her before they ever had the chance to meet. Jeanie was a beloved daughter to her parents, Paul and Retta, and goddaughter to her Aunt Beeb. All three were beside her constantly throughout her illness, caring for her without hesitation and loving her through every difficult day. Watching them care for her made it easy to understand where Jeanie first learned how to love so completely and unconditionally. She was a sister to Mike (“Baby Cakers”), RJ (“Little Brother”), Dave (“Davey A-Beck”), Tammi (“Deeandra”) and Paul (“Paulie”) – a role that came with decades of stories, teasing and memories only siblings can share. When life became unimaginably hard, they showed up for their sister in every way they knew how, each offering their time, talents, love and support to make her final months as comfortable and beautiful as possible. Her brother Mike took on a role none of them ever expected him to have: her personal doctor, medical advocate and caretaker. He followed every symptom, every test result and every seemingly minor change - all to help guide us through decisions we never wanted to make. He ensured his big sister received the very best care possible. Having someone who loved her so deeply watching over her medically gave all of us a sense of security we could never adequately repay. Being Aunt Jeanie was another role she took seriously. She loved her nieces and nephews fiercely – Ava, Gavin, Katie, Sean, Dan, Kris, Bailey and Evan, and, in true Jeanie fashion, made sure they knew it. During her illness, that love came right back to her. Ava and Gavin kept her supplied with colorful artwork to brighten her days, while routine visits from the older ones kept her home filled with familiar faces, conversation and love. They weren't simply nieces and nephews to her; they were eight more people to celebrate, cheer for, nickname, send cards to and proudly watch grow. Loving Mark also meant loving the people who mattered most to him. His children, Katelyn, Tyler and Jacob, became an important part of Jeanie's life over their years together, and she cared deeply for each of them. They, too, were part of the family and memories she and Mark built together. She was also blessed with lifelong friendships that proved the word “friend” could mean family. Friends who knew every version of her. Friends who could tell stories we had never heard and others we had heard a hundred times. Friends who showed up at her door, sat beside her, made her laugh, prayed for her and carried us when things became heavy. Her neighbors became family, too – checking in, visiting and surrounding her with the kind of community she had spent her own life creating. Perhaps the greatest testament to a life spent showing up for others was seeing just how many people showed up for Jeanie when she needed them most. To anyone and everyone who visited, checked in, mailed cards, dropped off meals, donated, prayed, cleaned and quietly found ways to make an impossible season a little easier: thank you. There is no possible way for our family to adequately express our gratitude for your selflessness. When Jeanie was diagnosed with an aggressive brain cancer, our world changed almost overnight. In the months that followed, she endured more than anyone should ever have to. Yet, cancer never got to define her. She faced every new challenge with a strength and bravery that left all of us in awe of her. She fought courageously, but more than that, she lived courageously. She kept loving. She kept laughing. She kept showing up. We find comfort in imagining her reunited with her grandparents she loved so dearly, and Holly wagging her tail by her side. Her life was tragically shorter than any of us were ready for, but it was extraordinarily full. Full of family, friendships, laughter and love. There will be birthdays when we wait for the phone to ring. Milestones when we instinctively search the crowd for her face. Mailboxes that feel strangely empty without a balloonie tied to them. There will be a million tiny moments when the enormity of missing her catches us completely off guard – but there will also be a million places where she remains. In every celebration we make a little too big. In every card we send “just because”. In every silly nickname that somehow sticks. Every time we choose to show up for someone we love - we remember Jeanie. Presence is the best present of all – and what a gift her presence was. Love you so muchers, Mom.