"That's a Wrap" / Repost from 2015

How were we to know that when we walked into that Costco nine years ago, we would be coming home with a new addition to the Alden family? We simply went in for laundry detergent, sliced cheese and peanut butter.  We were so young.  So naïve. So unprepared.

I’m not sure whose idea it was—perhaps mine. A question asked so casually: "Do we need plastic wrap?" And we did. Yes, we truly needed plastic wrap. So, we bought it—seven hundred and fifty feet of it.

Within three months, the detergent was gone, the cheese and peanut butter too.  But the plastic wrap? Why, we barely scratched the surface - a mere three feet at best. 

The years passed.  We moved from Bristol to Bristol and brought the wrap with us.  A few more years passed, we moved from Bristol to South Carolina - Bill, Janet, Ginger and the plastic wrap.... we all moved 800 miles to South Carolina.  We had become so attached, so fond of our plastic wrap, it was hard to imagine a time when it was not a part of the Alden family. We were planning another move soon and of course the wrap would come with us. 

A few months ago, I noticed that the roll was getting smaller.  I needed to tell Bill. We needed to prepare ourselves. Plus, he had a right to know. The thought of not having plastic wrap in our life, why it never occurred to me.  Oh, when I think of my plans about taking the wrap to our new home - I was so sure that we would always have the plastic wrap in our life. 

I was home alone yesterday, and as I feared, I came to the end of the wrap. I am not ashamed to admit that I wasn't strong enough and I waited for Bill to come home. I couldn't do it without him. Besides, he had a right to be here. We would say goodbye together. 

With Bill's steady hand on my shoulder, I used the last of the plastic wrap to cover my oatmeal cookie dough. It was done. I wiped a tear and Bill got his keys.  We were going to Costco.

Jennifer Gray

I visited Jennifer at Spartanburg Regional Hospital on the morning of Tuesday, September 9th (2025). Although it was not yet 9 a.m., her husband Sam, her sister Jill, a nephew, and a brother were already there, with many more family members arriving from near and far.

Jennifer was a strong Christian. During an earlier visit, she shared that she had peace with her diagnosis and decision and simply wanted to return to her Bushfork home. Jennifer left the hospital and returned home the next day, Wednesday. On Friday evening, Sam called to let me know that the hospice nurse had just left their home and to give me an update—Jennifer had about a week to live.

The next morning, I visited Jennifer at her home for what would be our final real conversation. After that, I visited each morning, sitting by her side, praying, speaking softly, and gently caressing her beautiful skin and cheek. They had begun administering strong doses of pain medication to keep her comfortable, and she slept deeply, barely reacting to noise or touch.

That Saturday morning, I told her I had written something for her and asked if I could share it. She softly replied, "Please do." This is what I read and shared with her that morning:

"You won't see Jennifer out in the neighborhood - she and Sam don't own a dog, and Jennifer doesn't drive - but if you attended the annual block party, you definitely saw her.  She was the sparkling, smiling gal carrying a platter piled high with fish cakes. 

Always sparkling and smiling, I can't recall a time when she wasn't doing both. She loves her glitter, rhinestones and all things glitzy. Her hat, her nails, her phone case, her shirts, her house slippers, her water bottle - you name it, it all had sparkle and shine. Sparkle is her favorite "color" and it suits her.  Jennifer radiates faith, joy, kindness and goodness. 

Jennifer and Sam created a cozy and inviting home.  Each visit brought a new discovery - a framed photo, a memento from a trip, or plaque with an inspiring verse.  Jennifer wanted people to feel welcome and comfortable, and I certainly always did. 

If Jennifer calls you a friend, consider yourself truly blessed.  You could be confident knowing she would be a true and loyal friend. Jennifer welcomes you in, cares deeply, listens with her heart and loves openly, all the while sharing her faith and leaving you feeling heard, loved and blessed. 

I feel blessed for all the moments I shared with Jennifer and the many ways she helped me. Not just in the easy conversations, but through the tough ones as well.  She listened and loved with the right balance of compassion and guidance, always rooted in the Word and grounded in love."

I finished up with, "Jennifer, my friend, my dear and treasured friend, I feel proud, honored, and truly blessed to have had you in my life these past four years.  I am grateful for all you've done for me and for others and I love you my precious friend."

Jennifer was crying as I read this to her, as was I. When I finished, we sat in silence for a few moments, me just caressing the beautiful soft skin on her face and hand and loving on her.  I thought she had fallen asleep, but then in a soft whisper she said, "Read it again. Gather everyone around and read it again". The family members, about 15 or so, gathered close around the bed and Jennifer softly said, "Janet wrote this for me". 

I read it again for the family. Jennifer was crying, I was crying and several family members were crying as well. When I finished, people came up to me, hugged me, and thanked me.  They thanked me.  Here I was blessed with this beautiful gift of friendship and love from their beloved "Jenny", and it will always be me who will be thankful.  

Jennifer passed September 18th around 9:30pm with Sam and Jill by her side. 

Jennifer, may God, who watches over us and hears us when we pray, grant you eternal rest - you are Home.