Remembering David Jacobs

April 3, 2014

 

Two weeks ago today, the earth tilted off its axis for me, my children and, I now know, for so many others.  On that day, March 20, David H. Jacobs-- my husband and partner, father and life coach to our three children, healer to so many patients, and a devoted and relenting friend to many, left our world.  He was only 61 but he lived life on steroids and in the end he was as blessed and fortunate as a man can be.

For who among us does not aspire to leave a mark on this world so that in our short time on this earth we make a difference? So that we live honestly and morally, that we love deeply and are loved deeply, and that we are not forgotten. 

“May his memory be for a blessing” and “may his memory sustain you.”  Until now, I never fully understood these words.  All of the outpouring of love and memories and remembrances from all those who were touched by him—lives saved even—have truly helped to get us through these first painful weeks of shared grief and denial.  I heard so often “this can’t be true,” “my mind can’t comprehend,” and “ what will I do now?” By week two I have begun to know that it really is true.  But what I and all of us are supposed to do now, I have not yet figured out.

For yes, David was my compass, my best friend, my solace, my cheerleader and confidant, my co-conspirator, my love.  We were married for almost 39 years and stil it was not enough.  But I know now that it is far from the end.  I have memories for a lifetime from a lifetime well lived.  I have 3 a.m. reveries of amazing trips, both real and metaphorical.  I believe I understand David now better than I ever did as I start to comprehend fully the code by which he lived and worked: 1) Give with your whole heart and expect others to do the same; 2) If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing at least 100%; 3) Listen, really listen, to what others are saying; 4) Devote yourself to something bigger than yourself, which in David’s case was Israel, and patient care (in addition to family and friends); 5) Sometimes gray isn’t the answer, only black and white will do; 6) Do not be alone—connections to people are all that really matter; 7) Live as if it’s your last day on this earth.

 

And David had the amazing opportunity to do all that for 61 meteoric years, leaving this life exactly according to his own script: in Las Vegas, during March Madness, swimming with his brother, on the first day of Spring. 

 

So if I grieve still, it is not for what he failed to do or give, it is for what he might have continued to do and for the hole he leaves in all our hearts.

With unending love and gratitude,

Charlotte Feldman-Jacobs