This is a post of a very personal nature and one I have honestly dreaded writing. One year ago today marks the one year date of losing my precious Mother. The past year has been one of great loss, pain, grief, and change. This is the first time I have written on my blog in over a year.
Despite the rest of the world complaining about how awful the Covid Pandemic has been for being socially and physically isolated for everyone, it has honestly been a blessing of sorts for me. It has given me time to grieve, process, and try and figure out a “new normal.”
Both my Mom and Dad had been living with Parkinson’s Disease for approximately the past 12 years, but were able to live pretty normal lives with modern medicine advances most of that time. Dad was worse physically then Mom most of those years, struggling with gait and balance issues, as well as typical feet freezing symptoms familiar to the disease. Mom actually did pretty well all those years, until about the last 2 years of her life. Without going into too many painful details, she was having a few more falls, but still mostly seemed like herself in her daily activities. She would still call me on the phone, could recall things her friends and our extended family members were doing, etc But something happened in the last year that seemed different. It was like she forgot how things worked; things like a kitchen appliance, laptop, or credit card when going out. Along with the more frequent falls, she also didn’t seem to be enjoying the things she once loved. I would still take her out shopping, which was always her favorite thing she loved, but she just didn’t want to stay out as long or just wasn’t as interested. I just thought it was getting older and that she might just be tired. Little by little though, it seemed Mom was changing….
To give you a clearer idea of what I mean, in November of 2019, we went shoe shopping together one afternoon. We went home and made dinner and did our usual chatting in the sunroom or going outside to admire her flowers. In December, she had another fall and I just remember in a Christmas family photo how distant she looked. I told Mark she seemed “smaller,” which is difficult to explain; she just seemed different. Instead of being around the family like she usually was, she was in the dining room sorting through papers or off in her room by herself more of the time.
In early February, Super Bowl weekend, Mom was hospitalized for having difficulty standing, along with some irrational thinking/behavior. She returned home in better spirits, but still couldn’t walk or stand by herself. Their neurologist suggested Hospice in home care, but never bothered to explain what that meant. My Dad just thought she was going to have care in their home, but a week later a Hospice nurse would give us all a shocking and grim diagnosis: that based on what she saw, Mom only had a few weeks left of life. We tried to deny her words and brushed it off like she didn’t know our Mother-she would be fine! She would bounce back. But sadly, she ended up being right. It was almost 2 weeks to the day later. Their Dr. claimed (after the fact) that she didn’t know Mom was close to death either; she had just prescribed Hospice as respite care until she hopefully got better. I hired in home caretakers for those final 2 weeks, and Mom got to be home until her final breath.
It was such a devastating time, none of us understood how quickly Mom’s health could have deteriorated! In hindsight, I think she wasn’t diagnosed accurately by their neurologist in Chattanooga and had Lewy Body Dementia. The fact that she could recall information and relay it didn’t fit the style of typical dementia, but rather more like the Lewy Body dementia sort of decline. Watching the Robin William’s documentary called, “Robin’s Wish,” clarified so much. I cried watching the whole thing because it was so painful to realize what Mom was going through but couldn’t tell us.
My beautiful Mother was so special, and losing her has been crushing. She was only 78 years old, and I’m only 52. Far too young for both of us. Many days it still seems so surreal! I’ve known people to lose their Mothers and thought it sounded very sad, but nothing prepared me for the deep palpable pain that comes when it happens to you personally. Really, there are no words to explain such a void it leaves in your heart and life.
The other hardest part has been seeing my Dad without the Love of his Life! My Parents were married for almost 60 years. Watching him grieve, live alone with Parkinsons, and try to gain some sense of being alone/life after loss has been so difficult. Staying in the home they shared and cultivated so beautifully was just too painful for him, so he moved to an Independent Living place close to their home in Chattanooga. He eventually sold their home, and is now living 5 minutes from us in North Georgia. It has been an adjustment for all of us, but he has displayed incredible strength and perseverance, despite the most difficult year of his life. And he’s seen some tough stuff! Dad is a Vietnam Vet and former Marine Captain and helicopter pilot.
So yes, lots of really hard stuff this year. If you follow me on Instagram, you know many of the other things that have happened along the way since Mom’s passing. A month after her death, an EF-3 tornado with winds up to 145 mph hit my hometown of Chattanooga; narrowly missing my parent’s home. Thankfully, Dad was unscathed by it! So much devastation for other areas of Chattanooga though, combined with the Pandemic made for very difficult times for many Chattanooga friends.
Before Dad moved to North Georgia in late October, we honored Mom by having a memorial plaque made and attached to a garden bench and placed on a playground at the Tennessee Baptist Children’s Home. My parents lived and served there for about 10 years with Dad being the Vice President of the Southeastern area after leaving the ministry/pastoring churches. Mom had been an elementary school teacher, but retired when they moved back from Jacksonville, FL to Chattanooga and she adored the children there; she would love knowing she still plays a part in their lives there. TBCH is a very special place for our family!
My Mother was such a sweet and loving wife, Mother, Grandmother, sister, teacher, and friend. She loved people with her whole heart, seeing the good in people and accepting them as they were. She was always thinking of others and did random acts of kindness regularly. Things like taking neighbors cookies, sharing her plants or flowers with them, or just calling to check on her friends or family. Even when she didn’t feel her best with this awful disease, she would tell me “The best way to feel better is to do something nice for someone else.” That truly is who she was! She loved her grandsons like crazy, as well. Adored those boys, spending long hours watching them climb trees or play outdoors in the dirt/sandbox when they were young, then continued taking an active interest in whatever activities they were into as they got older. She was present and invested in their lives, much like she did with everyone else she loved.
Mom was adventurous and loved life. After we were “grown and flown,” Mom and Dad started hiking more with an active couple they got to be good friends with while at the TBCH, bought mountain bikes, and Mom learned to rock climb!
Mom also loved her flowers, garden, sunroom, the birds, shopping, and cooking. She always had tons of past and present magazines and various cookbooks lying around, and Southern Living was one of her favorites. She loved making new recipes and trying them out for her family and friends. She made life special!
An interesting thing… before Mom passed away, Dad kept seeing Bluebirds coming right up to the sunroom window. After she passed away, I started seeing male Cardinals everywhere! Mom loved all birds, but Cardinals were her favorite. The saying “When a Cardinal appears, an angel is near,” brings great comfort, as a result. We have seen Cardinals appear during some very trying times throughout the year. We see you, Mom. You are always in our hearts! ❤️
Losing your Mother has a lasting permanent effect on your life, I’ve found; a feeling of displacement & disorder. As an only daughter, she taught me everything in life I needed to know about being a good Southern woman. I miss our phone calls, asking her about recipes, shopping and eating out together, and just hanging out with her in the sunroom or garden.
There has been some gradual healing in moving my Dad here and sharing in his live, however. My Mom would be so proud of him and his strength! And while nothing will bring her back to us, we find comfort in knowing she’s whole again in Heaven with our Lord and Savior and all our other family members and friends who have passed on, too.
A year later, we are still seeking solace after losing such an instrumental part of our lives. My Dad says, “Where there was great love, there is great loss.” That explains it well.
Missing her but thankful she was my Mother and gave me such a beautiful life and many great memories,
X O
Wendy Jacks Gigliotti says
February 19, 2021 at 11:28 amOh Melanie,
I am so sorry for your loss. Your post brought me to tears. I think we may be soul sisters.
The relationship and feelings you had with your mother, eerily similar to mine in so many ways. The gorgeous pictures of your mother…. I can see her kind heart and loving spirit right through them.
My mother, Joan, was a lovely and strong Southern woman as well. She will always be the strongest person I have ever known.
And my father a Marine Corps F-4 pilot who adored and respected her.
There were four of us kids, and I was the baby.
When you have time I hope you’ll read our story here.
My mother died in her sleep at 72, completely unexpectedly. I was 36. I can’t wait to see her again.
She was my best friend and my everything. Afterwards I sent all her good friends and our family an annual subscription to Mississippi Magazine. I wanted them to remember just who Joan was. She was such a special person.
I still hear her voice. And yes, she is near I know. I just wish she’d be louder with telling me what to do sometimes. 🥰. She was incredibly wise.
It’s been nearly 17 years and I miss her everyday.
We will continue to get through this Melanie. We have their strength and beauty in ourselves. It ain’t easy though.
Aren’t we just so truly blessed though. Wow. Lucky to have known this love.
I will try to link our story after this post.
Sending love and hugs.
Wendy
Wendy Jacks Gigliotti says
February 19, 2021 at 11:33 amMelanie, My niece actually found this on the internet some years ago. We had no idea this article had even been written. Wow.
MONDAY, MAY 27, 2013
Remembering Major Glenn G. Jacks, USMC

I grew up in Southern California during the Vietnam War, just a few miles from Marine Corps Air Station El Toro. On our quiet street in Tustin, the majority of our neighbors were Marine officers, and the majority of those were Marine Aviators. Our family always liked our Marine neighbors; the kids had interesting stories of faraway, exotic places like Japan or South Carolina, their moms generally spoke with cool Southern accents and used expressions we native Californians had never heard before, like, “Y’all are some cute lil’ boogers!” And of course the fathers exuded the (usually) quiet bravura common to most Marines, and especially the aviators. (Early on, I learned NEVER to call them “Marine pilots”…They were Marine AVIATORS!) To this junior high school guy, these warriors were the essence of awesome. My dad, a World War Two Army Air Force veteran and former National Guard infantry officer, seemed to gravitate to the Marines, and treated them with great respect.
Of all of those Marine officers who were neighbors, the one who made the greatest impression on my entire family was Glenn Jacks. Captain Jacks was one of those people who everyone in the neighborhood instantly liked. The same was true of his wife and two children. This was a family that just seemed to brighten up Chirping Sparrow Way by their presence. They’d always show up to the barbecues, curbside fireworks displays, and block parties, and Captain Jacks would draw folks in with his infectious grin and slow drawl.
When Captain Jacks got orders for Vietnam, it didn’t seem that momentous to the non-Marine families; we’d never had anyone go over there and not come back. The war was on TV most nights, presented by Walter Cronkite, but it wasn’t REAL. Until October, 1967, anyway. Not too long before, the neighborhood celebrated the news of Captain Jacks’ promotion. (I’ll never forget his young daughter announcing proudly, “My daddy’s a MAJOR!” to everyone she encountered for almost an entire week.) One afternoon, I came home from school to find my mother sitting on the couch, sobbing. She looked up and said quietly, “Glenn Jacks’ airplane crashed in Vietnam, and he’s dead.” I was stunned. How could a man who was so full of energy and confidence, who had only just left about a month ago be dead?
Soon, we all got to see what a Marine Corps Family is made of. Mrs. Jacks didn’t hide; she met with her neighbors and friends one by one, and told us how her husband and his crewman had taken off to fly a mission. When the jet engines failed, Major Jacks stayed with the aircraft to fly it away from the village where it would have crashed had he ejected. He and his crewman crashed into a mountain, killing them both. They didn’t make a big deal about his heroism, as if this sort of act was to be expected of a Marine Aviator.
October, 1967 is when my concept of war changed from words and photos in history books, and grainy black and white television pictures, to an actual human face. Every Memorial Day since then, I have taken a moment to remember the bravery, sacrifice, and personality of Major Glenn Jacks, USMC, and that of his family. I shall not forget them, and their service to our nation.
Posted by “The Fighting Leprechaun”
at 12:16 AM
Wendy Jacks Gigliotti says
February 19, 2021 at 11:36 amWhile others take to their boats and ready the barbecue, I reflect on the great sacrifice of Major Glenn Gates Jacks, my father, KIA, October 19, 1967, Phantom F-4 Pilot, 34 years old. He left behind my amazing mother who was so dearly in love with him, Joan, as well as Glenn Gregory, 11 years old, Vickie Dawn, 9, Michael Tracy, 4, and myself in utero.
This is the very first post I have ever done which describes what my family went through. It brings many tears. It is overwhelming, all encompassing and deep. More than can ever be explained or described. The trajectory of our lives was changed.
There would be no welcome home. But there was a baby to be born and huge life decisions to be made. The weight of what my mother carried was so much more than me. She was remarkable and her strength brought us through the tragic crisis.
She spoke of my father daily. She would let us know what he would have said, or what he would have thought. She described her love for him and his for her, stating that “to have a good marriage you have to be best friends. You have to respect and trust each other. Sometimes he puts you first, and sometimes you put him first”.
She told many stories of who my dad was. How one of his peers would always say, “That damn Glenn Jacks can ALWAYS out fly me!”. He LOVED flying. She spoke of my dad’s humble way. Just a farm boy from Mississippi, who graduated with a degree in agriculture.
She taught us the great accomplishments he’d achieved at such a young age. How he represented the United States Marine Corps at NATO in Rome. How when the Marine Corps let NATO know they would be sending Major Jacks, NATO sent word that a Major was not adequate rank for such an assignment. How the powers that were the USMC responded to NATO, “We will send Major Jacks … or we will send no one.” So my dad went to NATO. And my mom “made herself a martini”. I still have the beautiful handmade table cloth and napkins my father brought back for my mother.
She also let us know what she did and did not tolerate. How one time in California Dad was fixing the garage door. He had asked Mom for help. While she attempted to hold the door up and off of his back, he became frustrated with how the operation was progressing and snapped at my mother. “Damnit Joan! Can’t you hold the door up?!” Her response was simply to place the garage door down atop his back, turn and walk into the house, leaving him pinned. He was freed when a neighbor came walking across the yard. The neighbor went into the house, asking “Joan, did you know Glenn was stuck outside under the garage door?” 😳 “He never spoke to me that way again.”, she’d say.
She ran the entire household solo while my dad deployed to Japan for a 13 month unaccompanied tour. She had babies to raise and the missions of an officer’s wife. She was capable, confident, strong and soft all in one. Though his death did change her. She was forced to love and discipline, and make every decision. She had no time off, time away, or time to pursue her desires and her needs.
And I wonder. How did she do it? I will never really know. How did she not end up killing us or in the state mental hospital? I do not know. How did she do it all and manage to love us the way she did? Aside from martinis and cigarettes, there was no counseling. No SSRI’s to take. It was hard. It was VERY HARD. She had friendships that were golden, and my dad’s family who was strong.
You see, Memorial Day is about remembering the one’s who gave it all. Laid their lives down and paid the ultimate. And it is also about remembering those left in the wake, left to pick up the pieces and finish out the story. These are the heroes left behind who need remembering too.
Sometimes Joan would say, “I used to be fun!”, “I have feelings too! I am a person.” Now as a mother, I understand. I get it. We were just self-centered kids. And yet she still always took the time to listen, encourage, and let us know when she did not approve. Oh boy she would let you know. She was funny and beautiful, and I miss her every day.
Dad had other accomplishments too. He flew on exchange duty with the United States Air Force and was OFFERED an exchange duty with The Royal Air Force. He declined the RAF tour as Vietnam was underway and he could not in good conscience take such an assignment.
He was the youngest to graduate from Junior School, which existed a long time ago as part of Marine Corps training. He always ranked top in his PFT’s and evaluations, which made Joan very proud. And most importantly he was loved and respected by his fellow Marines.
My mother would tell of the men who came to pay their respects after Dad was killed. How a fellow aviator came up the sidewalk approaching the front door on Chirping Sparrow Way in Tustin, California. And then he stopped. He sobbed. He knew not what to say to this widow left with four children. He apologized to my mother as she was then consoling him. This is who Joan was.
I am attaching some pictures and letters. Things written regarding my father, all by people I have never personally met. I can never express the gratitude in my heart to each of these people for taking the time to document and recount who he was and the events which took place. They are invaluable to me, especially to let my children know who their grandfather was. (These not only document the moments when his jet failed, but also describe just who our family was.) Two letters were crafted by his best friends who deployed prior, poking him for “not being in the fight yet”. Both my parents had an award winning sense of humor. I so love these letters.
If you have made it this far in this post, I want to thank you.
Raise a glass today in honor of Major Glenn Jacks. And say a prayer for all the families who are remembering those they loved.
Simper Fi
Major Glenn Gates Jacks, KIA, October 19, 1967
A neighbor boy remembers our family from back in the day. Thank you for remembering us Flying Leprechaun. Thank you. His link:
http://thefightingleprechaun.blogspot.com/2013/05/remembering-major-glenn-g-jacks-usmc.html
Julia Servatt says
February 19, 2021 at 6:15 pmBeautiful tribute!
Shelly@ConfettiStyle says
February 19, 2021 at 7:05 pmMelanie, The post you wrote about your mom is beautiful. I felt her spirit as I was reading and know that indeed she was an amazing person. The loss of a parent is one of the most devastating things in life but I know that all of the beautiful moments you shared with your mom and the memories you created will comfort you now and in the years ahead. A mother’s love is one of the greatest gifts from God and even though they are gone that love continues to surround us!
Joy Dobosh says
February 19, 2021 at 10:00 pmMy heart goes out to you. I understand your loss. When Hospice came in for my mother, and she died two weeks later, I was devastated. I didn’t understand. It was awful, and I don’t think I’ll ever know what really happened to her. May you be able to focus on the good and happy times. Love to you.
Patricia Wilson Wallen says
February 20, 2021 at 1:25 amI thought the world of your mom. She was such a nice person. I lost my mom almost three years ago and grief is something you work through, not get over. Losing your mom is hard.
Sheila Wilson says
February 20, 2021 at 12:59 pmSuch a lovely tribute to your mother and expression of love and loss. Your mother was such a blessing to all. So glad your dad is now living close.
Tonya Williams says
February 20, 2021 at 4:14 pmI feel your loss through your beautiful words about your mom. I too lost mine and it still to this day feels like there is a hole in my heart. Praying for you, your dad and your family as you navigate through the time ahead without your precious mom.
Lynda says
February 22, 2021 at 2:33 pmSo very sorry for the loss of your mom. A beautiful tribute to her. As I know, you will never get over the loss of your mom. Time will help ease the pain but it will always be a void in your heart. My mom was only 68 when she passed away from cancer. It has been 15 years but I miss her everyday. Some days are harder than others. Your mom sounds like she was a beautiful, lovely soul. My mom was too. Blessings to you!