Jackie Smith

Tribute to My Aunt

For as long as I can remember, my aunt had a big kitchen table that was the heart of her home. It wasn't just a place to sit; it was a gathering spot where everyone, no matter who they were or what they were going through, could come and feel at home. To me, that table always symbolized her open arms – welcoming all, without judgment. 

It was like a place where you could bring your troubles, your joys, your fears – your entire self – and just be. Angry? Sad? Happy? Or maybe you'd done something you weren't proud of, or needed someone to keep a secret? No matter what, you could always sit at her table. Her home, like Jesus' arms, was open and accepting. In many ways, her table reminds me of the altar – a place you could always run back to. 

Her door, much like her heart, was always open. It wasn't even locked half the time (lol). That openness, that sense of security, became a constant for all of us. And when she wasn't around, we all felt it. It was too quiet. Her presence was like a light in a room, undeniable and felt by everyone around her. She was so considerate and intentional in everything she did. Selflessness came naturally to her, and she put others before herself without question. But that wasn't all. She was the life of the party, the one who could always make us laugh with her goofy sense of humor. There was a special warmth in her, an energy that made you feel good inside, like you were seen and valued. 

She loved her grandchildren fiercely. She would do anything for them. The way she talked about them to anyone she ran into showed the depth of her love. She was incredibly proud of them, and they were the light of her life. Her daughters were some of her best friends. They kept her on her toes, called her for advice, and was always there for her in return when she needed them. They shared a bond that was unbreakable. Most of her nieces and nephews always flocked to her house. If we needed advice, needed a laugh, or just wanted to spend time with her, Aunt Jackie was there. She was everything you needed her to be and so much more. If you needed to run to Walmart, she'd be ready to go. Want to hop out of the car and run around the van at a red light just for fun? Hurry up—let’s do it! She made life an adventure. When it came to relationships, marriage, or dealing with life’s challenges, you could always count on her for wise advice. She had a unique perspective that would make you think and see things differently.

We loved playing jokes on her because her reactions were priceless. Her facial expressions, her quick comebacks—you always knew she wouldn’t be mad. She just had this way of making everything fun, even in the most unexpected moments.

Her home was the meeting place for everything. If you needed a one-on-one conversation, she’d tell you exactly what she thought. And you never felt ashamed. You felt supported and heard, no matter the situation. She let us be who we wanted and do what we wanted for the most part, we broke the rules quite a few times at Aunt Jackie's house.

If you needed someone to bail you out or help you hide something, Aunt Jackie was the one you called. She was there for everyone, no questions asked. She had four sisters whom she loved immensely. They were her first best friends. Sisters share a bond like no other, and they always had each other’s backs. I can still picture the countless hours they spent together, brewing a cup of coffee and sitting at her table, having “table talk,” as I like to call it. There was always a chance that a yelling match might break out, but that was just part of it. You could say whatever you needed to, get it all out, and own it.

There are so many funny memories I’ll always remember her saying—little jokes, rants, and hilarious moments. She used to joke about her ex-husband having six wives. She’d do her daily “rant of the day” like it was an event. I’ll never forget her sneaking her vape into the hospital and getting caught! Her sense of humor was one of a kind. There was Anna, who she said could never remember which pharmacy she used, and Danielle driving her crazy, and acting like Bruce, of course! Then, there was Kimberly, the sweet one. She would always say, “Not everyone mothers the way I do." and she was right, she was one of a kind. And of course, her famous meatloaf and dressing everyone loved and requested her to make—things that just made her home feel like a warm embrace.

I can still see her doing the Soulja Boy dance and I can hear her saying, “I got Jackie the piece of trash!” We’ll always remember her laughs, her infectious spirit, and all those little moments that made her who she was. And of course, her saying something about my $6 coffee and Marc coming in and going straight to her pantry or fridge for snacks. She recognized the little things each person in her life did or was going to do. 

The reality of grief is no one will ever really know how much you suffer on the inside, because no one knows how deeply you loved who you lost. The world keeps turning even though yours has stopped. The daily internal struggle you have with yourself and your thoughts, no one will ever know. Because an “I'm fine” is easier, not easier for others, but easier than trying to explain to those who might not understand.

Grief is sneaky. One minute you're totally okay, and the next you're a complete basket case. 

Thers are so many more memories that I hold close to my heart, and I know so many others do as well. This is just small tribute to honor her and share some of who she was. Some days it feels like I just talked to her, and other days it feels like it’s been a lifetime. The void she leaves behind is impossible to fill, but the love and joy she gave will live on forever in all of us.