Jenni is my sister. She recently passed away. It was unexpected, and it has left everyone in shock.

I always hated it when people spelled it with a “y” instead of an “i” at the end. I felt so protective of her. I felt that from her, too. I was never able to fully understand what caused that energy between us, though I do know our empathy for the world was one of the few things we shared.

As the years went on, we drifted apart.

We pursued our individual careers, and both got married and then divorced, then remarried, at our own pace. Our lifestyles were almost opposite, and there was very little common ground between us. She was a sharp-brained engineer who knew math that I didn't know existed. Don't get me wrong, a solid algebra brain teaser is always welcome, but I'm not sure I could ever keep up with her. Here I am, with my sewing, therapy, and creativity.

Happy and clueless in our 20's. Good times.

Honestly, though, we thought of each other constantly. We would send each other postcards from, well, for me, places other than Rochester, NY, but she would often travel to, like, cool places. We didn't have a lot in common. 

This is all the fabric that she brought me from a faraway land. And she always loved books, another thing she was so much better at than I was: reading. I could say a million things about this design and layout, and most of it is personal, which I will keep to myself for now. That's one of the great things about creative expression; it's your unique vision that, no matter how it's built, becomes art. 

One of her shine-through strengths was home decor. I mean, she was spot on. She could figure out clever ways to reuse things, or get rid of them—end of story. I had clutter issues, and she knew it. Her house looked just... beautiful. Coordinated and everything sort of flowed. Yeah, she was pretty amazing.

She was always helping me thrive in my life. The thing I remember most about her is how she would constantly challenge me to be better. Just non-stop.

This one time, she was moving out of the country for work and couldn't take her couch, so she made a deal with me: she'd ship the furniture, but not to our parents' house. It worked! I became an apartment tenant as fast as I could and moved out of my parents' house. The following week, I got my first set of living room furniture. I still have photos of that couch. It was so ugly! Which is what made it great.

Just such a supporter. There were times when it felt critical, and at some point, I usually realized my downfall in the situation. She pushed exactly to the point of no return, then knew when to back off. She was hard to impress and would upgrade the target without warning.

During the time leading up to her unexpected and tragic passing, our interactions were minimal. It seemed as though something was stopping her from opening up and being authentic. I didn't want to aggravate her by asking what was wrong too many times, so I figured it was better not to keep asking.

Maybe I should have, because perhaps the push I always felt from her was barely strong enough to feel it. As a trauma therapist, I know that she is carrying trauma, and I only know this because we spent two decades growing up together, and I observed some of what she had been through.

I generally encourage everyone to see a therapist because it provides stability, no matter how healthy you are, and I offered the same advice to her.

The point is that her death has pushed me to try something new once again and let it take me where it goes. The latest effort is creating this blog. It is about therapy adventures and diffusing complicated thoughts and emotions, while also showing some of the creative process behind the quilts I am making, because they go hand in hand, and often co-exist in seamless harmony. I'm simply expressing myself authentically and going with the flow. 

She is the first of the generational clan to pass. It was just such a surprise. I have taken some time to grieve her loss, and it has been a bit more intense than I thought it would be, so this is the first time I'm speaking of it publicly. It may have actually strengthened my relationship with my father. I've heard that death can do that, and it makes sense with much more clarity, having experienced it myself. 

Jenni, you're greatly missed, and I promise that, as long as I have anything to do with anything, no one will even consider forgetting you.

Love Carrie

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