Letters
To You Who Loved Jennifer
To you who loved Jennifer,
If you’re reading this letter, then Jennifer “Pilot” Chase was special to you—even if you didn’t know it until the moment she died. She found a way into your heart, and now that she’s gone a hole remains that nothing and no one else can fill. Maybe you’re embarrassed to read this letter. Maybe you feel alone. Maybe you’re hoping to find some reason to think the pain you feel is real, not just your imagination. I can tell you it’s real. It’s not just your imagination. You need not be embarrassed. Because, my friend, you’re not alone.
Perhaps you saw Jennifer’s humanity, such as when she described being human as “feeling, and thinking, and being alive in your world.” Perhaps you enjoyed her humor, as she calmly asked the imposing “Tank” Ellis to stand aside from a stubborn locked door so she could ply her proton spanner and open it with ease. Perhaps you shared her pain when she was on trial for the darkness of her youth, because you too have darkness in your heart and maybe you too, like Jennifer, can climb up from the pit and into the light. Whatever it is about her, even if it’s something no one else notices or appreciates, you came to love her. And then she was taken from you.
If you still remember her after nearly 40 years, she’s more than “just a story” to you. Is she your heroine, like she is mine? Is she someone whose adventure you wanted to share? Did you have a crush on her? Whatever drew you to her, know that you’re not alone in having loved her—and in loving her still.
I’m sorry you’ve joined me in grieving Jennifer, but I’m also glad you’re here. And your grief is real, it’s meaningful, and it’s normal. If you have a heart that can grieve even a fictional character, then God bless you. Grief is always lonely, but know that you’re not the only one. To quote Billy Joel, you and I are “sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it’s better than drinking alone.”
I wonder if you felt something like I did that Saturday or Sunday morning when Jennifer died. Was it shock? Were you numb inside? Did you cry? Were you angry? Did you wonder where to turn to help you understand? However her death affected you, you weren’t alone. Others were hurting too. Maybe you looked the next weekend, in vain, for another episode: Something that would help you make sense of what you were feeling. Or make it better. Or maybe reveal that Jennifer was okay after all. Maybe you quickly forgot, suppressing the memory lest it tear you apart inside. Maybe you just felt the weight of the dark world we live in. But you weren’t alone. Perhaps you wish you could go back and comfort your younger self, just like I do for my younger self. Perhaps you now see that you’re a better person because of Jennifer’s short life.
Whatever you went through, whether it was grievous pain or just moments of sadness over what happened to Jennifer, you were in good company. Although you may have felt alone that bleak morning, others who loved Jennifer were in similar straits. But if you’re here, you remember her, just like I do. I wish I could tell you something that will make the world right again. Maybe in this matter, one day, it will be right again; but for now, in this present darkness, remembering Jennifer and letting her light shine through us is the best we can do to honor her life and sacrifice and to show the world that our love for her is meaningful, good, and important. Please, my friend, remember her always.
Sincerely,
J. R. Clark
P.S.: If you want to share your thoughts or feelings about Jennifer with someone who will hold them with care, or if you just want to commiserate with another human being, email [email protected].