Carolyn H. Jemison

Carolyn Jemison

10/12/1931-2/10/2023

First off, to each and every caregiver that aided, comforted, and came to befriend my mother, my family and I wish to express a heartfelt thank you. I know my mother in some ways and at many times was probably not always easy, but I also know she had a way of winning hearts over. Apparently she did just that with her Colorado team of caregivers. We thank you for the love, care and friendship you provided to her. There aren’t enough words to properly express our gratitude to each of you. Just know we are eternally grateful.

To her conservator and guardian, I personally thank you for always being willing and able to answer questions when we had them and provide important updates whenever we needed them. This did not go unnoticed and we are equally grateful for overseeing her affairs and health.

I want to acknowledge that my mom’s life journey was often a long and difficult one. Of all the things I’ve ever wished for us, as mother and daughter, I do wish we could have been able to speak to each other openly and honestly about her illness and struggles. I think it would have been beneficial for us both in so many ways, but this was a road my mom never ventured down, mostly, I believe, because speaking about it would have been admitting to it and that isn’t easy for people with these types of struggles. I found this to be very sad, a by-product of the historic societal stigma attached to mental illness, and my mom was one who chose not to speak of it. So, I respected her boundaries and never pushed the subject. Deep down my mom was so much more than her illness but how I wish we could have talked about it….There were many fond memories of her in her better moments, especially in the years the grandkids were being born.

As a kid, and I use this analogy often, I felt like my mom was a banana. Meaning if you could peel the skin of her illness away, inside was a beautiful accomplished woman in her own right. But as she grew older, the skin and the banana were seemingly mashed together. It grew harder to have conversations free of her disease. She was at once spirited, frustrated and at times very irritable. Yet, as you must know, my mom was also very beautiful on the inside. Our best times together were when I went through my divorce, living in Pennsylvania by then, I often brought my kids to visit her in New Jersey. It was a tough time for me, and I suspect she knew she was helping me just by taking the kids for a day so I could relax or go out and take a break. Being with grandkids was something she enjoyed so much and as a result, the grandkids have wonderful memories.

I have provided pictures of my younger mom so you could see that in her younger years, she was just as beautiful on the outside. It is no wonder my dad and mom fell in love at a young age. They were voted the most popular couple in their high school yearbook, had many friends and went to many functions together. It was Bill and Carolyn and they were in their day— the ‘it’ couple.

You might not have known:

As a young child, I remember that mom was sometimes in local small-town plays, and, as I think back, I find it amazing. Here was a woman, my mom, who found great joy in playing a character and could memorize all her lines. Here I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night, am horrible at public speaking, and yet she derived great joy from acting. I remember even as a young child thinking how free and happy she seemed doing that.

For a time my mom traveled around the nation bringing her dogs and her belongings and landing from place to place. She was much too old for this and eventually it had to stop. One night, when she was in Pennsylvania during these travels, she spoke about dating our dad to my brother Mike and I. It was one of the best visits and conversations I think we three ever shared. My mom recounted the day she met dad in school (junior high) and described what she was wearing, what he was wearing (in great detail), how he carried her books for her after school that day, and how the rest was history. She spoke about this day, a day that had occurred nearly 70 years prior, with such precision, I might as well have been watching an old time movie. When Mike and I left we both looked at each other in amazement and acknowledged how cool that visit was. She always liked to remind us that ‘her mind was sharp as a tack,’ and really proved it during that particular visit by sharing this detailed, sentimental story.

My mom had understandable difficulties with her human relationships. It was just a common known fact of life. I specify ‘human’ because then again, she could speak to her beloved pets in full-on paragraphs and the animals would understand her completely. “Now Lucy,” she would say, “I’m going to get up and take a shower and so I want you to get up on the bed and nap and after I return I will feed you. Be a good girl Lucy because after that we’ll go outside.” Mom would go into the bathroom to shower and Lucy would get up on the bed and nap. It was both unbelievable (since dogs usually get told to ’sit’ or ’stay’) and believable because the magic she had with grandkids applied to animals too. These were her purest and easiest relationships and a joy to witness. She understood the needs of a child and the mind of an animal and this is where she communicated the best.

She was an especially fantastic grandmother. There isn’t a grandchild who would dispute this. She loved getting my boys ‘haircuts, a new outfit, lunch, the zoo and a trip to the toy store’ as a day’s agenda….as she did with each grandchild during each visit. I have to add, since what she bought for one she bought for (at that time) 6, the toy store owner loved to see her walk through the door! And the anticipation of winding up this ‘big day out with grandma’ at the toy store was something the kids all talk about and remember with great fondness.

My mom struggled with Mother’s Day and her Birthday because she was adopted. My brother Mike tried to research and provide information for her, but times were different back then and much is not known. This troubled her and I always felt bad for her in this respect. Knowing (for many of us) is far better than not knowing and this was true for mom. This was something that seemed to contribute to her life-long struggles as well as to my observation that parts of her wild and lost. I wished having her own family would be enough to fill that tragic hole in her heart, but not knowing her birth-mother was a deep wound.

Our mom, Carolyn Jemison, was a one of a kind human being: a woman, a daughter, a sister, a girlfriend, a bit of an actress, a wife, a mom, an aunt, a friend, a grandma, a great grandma, a sensitive soul, an often troubled-soul, and she was also someone who tried to help, who could laugh and make you laugh, who enjoyed pushing buttons, and one who’s only true desire was to remain a free spirit for all of her days. I thought of her in these later years as a gypsy—No home could contain her for long until her own physical body demanded she stay put.

I hope above all else that my mom is now forever wild and free. She did not like to feel or be caged by the confines of society and made it her mission to avoid this at all cost. It’s why she moved about so much. As my husband would say, ‘she had no rest in her ass,’ (sorry mom, it’s that Pennsylvania Dutch lingo). So now I hope she is dancing in the heavens and that she has reunited with dad and the family, pets and the friends gone before her. I can imagine she has probably healed some wounds of her youth and is now truly free. We had a challenging relationship, my mother and I, with many words left unspoken. But all of us loved her very much, all of us wished we could have found more direct avenues to being and remaining close to her for we knew then and know now, underneath it all she was a woman of heart and soul and love. Although I didn’t see her during these final years, I’ve thought about her daily, will cherish the good memories I have of her, and honor her memory knowing she gave me life, the greatest gift a mother can give.

Maya Angelou

A great soul serves everyone all the time. A great soul never dies. It brings us together again and again.

Unknown

The world changes from year to year, our lives from day to day, but the love and memory of you, shall never pass away.

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