Exceptional When she died, we discovered her real beauty. An Unknown Miracle by Magpiemazy.

My daughter, Jaimie, died on January 30, 2022. She valiantly fought double pneumonia for eight long weeks, through five hospitals and she won. Two days later, she had a massive heart attack and died at eleven o'clock that night. As we did with her dad, we held a Celebration of Life. The large, rented room filled as more and more people crowded in to say farewell to a young woman who spurred love into every heart she met. Perhaps that doesn't sound so different from large funerals people attend. This proved to be different, not because of the numbers, but because of the variety who showed. Jaimie, born with Down's Syndrome, was one of those babies too many think are a waste of time and breath. Even her doctor urged us to take her home, love her, and expect absolutely nothing from the daughter for whom we waited seven years. We decided to toss his advice aside and expect everything until she said she could not do something. She grew into a young woman who never gave up. It took her twenty-one years to tie her shoes, but she refused Velcro straps. On the day she proudly showed the bow neatly tied in her favorite shoes, she relented. "Now, Belcro," she announced. She no longer saw them as a sign of failure, just an easier method. She proved she could tie shoes if she wanted to do so. At four feet, four inches tall, she played basketball with a standard net at standard height and dunked the ball quite well. She bowled by learning without the side bars on which many handicapped rely. She discovered how to open every lock in the house, much to my chagrin. One cold winter's day, she escaped to the snowy wonderland outside. After a massive search in our suburb, she appeared from a neighbor's home, four houses down. Jaimie watched every political debate and speech when she turned twenty-one. Voting meant a lot to her and she became more informed than most of us before going to the polls. While deep in a speech by former Vice President Al Gore, she declared, "He is not a nice man." From that moment on, she refused to watch him speak or debate. She went to technical school, won a contest and a trip to the nationals at Kansas City, Missouri. There, although she missed winning by five seconds presentation time, she won the judge's hearts. Walking onto the stage with a bright smile and easy hand gestures, she held everyone's attention as she spoke. When her dad became disabled from a massive stroke, for three years she assisted in his care, never arguing about the tasks. However, she often asked to do more. After Bruce passed away, we moved to Florida, only to have to move again before two years passed. Her uncle in Alabama became terminally ill. Once again, she pitched in to make his life easier as he fought kidney disease. Throughout these caretaker times, she learned to give Bruce his shots for diabetes, after I drew the amount of medication. She worked to clean the house while I took my brother to dialysis three times a week. Jaimie gave comfort to him when he was at home and to me when he struggled in the hospital. One day I noticed a small box full of strips of paper. Thinking it to be trash, I asked if it should be thrown out. "No! That's my lines!" Her lines turned out to be the information at the end of a page when she printed it. That information showed her how to get back to the site. She knew exactly what strip went to which site. She had an amazing ability to work electronic gadgets, which came in handy when I flubbed trying. When her heart failed, my world crashed. We lived together for 43 years. On the night of her Celebration of Life, more of her life paraded before me, detailing a small number of her accomplishments. The seniors from our local Center arrived to show their love for her help and kindness during the virus outbreak. She rose early every week day to put together meals for delivery to the homebound. She worked with precision and laughter. When life returned to normalcy, she remained working in the kitchen. Her reward afterward was to play games like Rummikube, Dominoes, and Triominoes. The dominoes and triominoes were easy compared to train dominoes she learned, which required more logistical planning. The doctor at her birth, oh, how I wished he could see the baby he counted out before she even lived! She not only learned to play; she won on a regular basis. Her tenacity continued while playing Uno, Trouble or even Junior Monopoly. When she played her last card or tile, she sent up a mighty cheer. Smiles broke out at the Center when they heard that sound. Her church family appeared next, remembering how she volunteered to help when needed, as well as funny incidents during her seven years with them. Jaimie loved to sing, always accompanied by a microphone that held no batteries. Not long before she became ill, the music director chose her favorite song, 'Jesus Loves Me.' She finally knew all the words! Around her, others smiled, and some stopped singing to hear her voice lifted with love of Jesus to the heavens. Theater actresses arrived, whispering and chuckling. They remembered Jaimie onstage, not only singing her side to "Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better," but adlibbing during other parts of the play. My newspaper editor moved to my side where she reminded me of Jaimie's visit to the office. There she won all hearts with her friendly greetings and an eye on the delicious goodies on the charcuterie board. She thoroughly enjoyed her visit, although during our meeting she practiced another hobby, working word finder puzzles. Her Taekwondo class arrived to present her with an honorary Level 1Black Belt. Through her own efforts, she won her yellow, orange, green and blue belts before arthritic feet forced her to give it up. The students and their leader offered a bow and final farewell to Jaimie as she left the mat for the last time. Most of the managers from our local supermarket came, bearing food enough to feed an army, tears in their eyes. How many times had Jaimie helped ring the Salvation Army bell or lend a hand at Customer Appreciation Day? Through her joyous dancing while singing Christmas songs, she pulled people to the red kettle. I worked with her, but it was Jaimie they moved closer to see and hear. And it was Jaimie for whom they contributed. Her brother, sister-in-law and her brother's friend, who we informally adopted since he stayed at our house so much, arrived from Pennsylvania and Virginia, respectively. A second 'adopted' brother could not be with us but sent his love in a beautiful bouquet. All of them attended her graduation from technical school in Florida. Since her passing, so many have told me how she opened their eyes to children with Down's. To some degree, most of them did not know how to act or what to say when around them. Through Jaimie, they discovered these people should be treated as anyone else, with dignity and respect. They will show you how to supply the love. Jaimie learned to cook, clean house, handle her own personal care and a thousand other things. More than anything else, she learned to be an emissary on behalf of Down's people without realizing she did it. On the day after her birth, neither her father nor I received news of her genetic problem as a joyous thing. Unknown to us, God presented us with a miracle who would make herself known after she rejoined the Father and her own dad in heaven. We saw how far a baby can go as she grows into a small, but determined woman. Through her infinite patience and determination, she taught the world with love to give love to those they avoided before. So very many now pass along her lessons and her joy to all around them. Author Notes Losing a child is a pain such as no other. Too often, when children are born imperfect in some new parents' eyes, they are left at the hospital to be picked up like dirty laundry by an institution. And some of the places give minimal care since they know the parents will never check on their lost children again.

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