my auntie jan

a short tribute

Dear friends,

A bit of a different letter today-

Part of me wanted to not write anything this week, part of me wanted to just put out the letter about fall pants I had already written, but here I am at 5 am this Friday morning, starting over to give you all a short tribute to one of my favorite people in the world .. if that’s ok with you.

While most of you reading may not have met my Auntie Jan, I don’t think it will matter. She could make friends and connect with absolutely anyone in life, so I have no doubt you’ll all be able to feel how special she was just from a few short words.

She passed away suddenly and completely unexpectedly this week, leaving me asking all the big questions. Rattled by how fragile and unknown life can be, wondering what to do next. The past 6 days have been 10 years long.

My sweet friend Kate told me “…keep spreading her memory - the world needs her stories.” So I’ll start there.

Entire books should be written about Auntie Jan, so this will be too short and not at all comprehensive, but I know even just a little glimpse into who she was will ripple out and make us all a little bit better. I’m sure of it.

And because this is a place where we talk about fashion, I have to brag about this facet of her dynamic life, just a little bit. In her 20s, she worked for Calvin Klein in New York City and the stories from this time are just incredible. Everything you’d imagine at a big fashion advertising job in the 80s and more. Big earrings and red lipstick, shoulder pads and costume jewelry. When my mom would visit, they had nights out dancing that lasted until morning, and ended with snowball fights on the street as the sun came up.

While my own mother is an absolute fashion icon, we both agree that her sister, Jan, is our inspiration and North Star. For her style sense, yes, but also for how to treat other people, and how to move through the world with kindness.

For her, this came easy because she was a lover of all beautiful things. Tangible and not. Languages, traveling, new friendships, her kids’ laughter, beautiful clothes, nice shoes, old memories, new memories, good stories, the color turquoise. She could appreciate and find beauty in anything.

mom and jan

She worked at the front desk of a physical therapy office for the past few years and, to no one’s surprise, went above and beyond in all that she did. She remembered each patient’s names, their kid’s names, their kid’s pet’s names, where their nieces and nephews went to school, where they dreamed of traveling. No detail was unimportant to her. She even learned how ask meaningful questions in people’s native languages. If some people go the extra mile, then she ran marathons. She could ask one patient what his summer plans were and how the progress was going on his injured knee, in Ukrainian. The same for a someone who’s first language was Portuguese.

What’s more impressive is that she never did anything for praise or recognition- this was just her baseline. She always operated at a level of selflessness and empathy that mystified everyone around her, even when things were hard. Especially when things were hard.

Just over a year ago, her husband- my dear Uncle Mike, passed away suddenly. And eventually, she somehow found strength to become herself again. To see beauty again. She was both teaching herself Italian and figuring out how to manage finances alone. She made a conscious choice to be happy- and put in incredible effort to do so.

She felt everything deeply- she would cry when I’d send her a video singing happy birthday to her and tear up reading complete strangers’ guest book entries at the beach house. She would laugh from the bottom of her belly during our annual bocce ball tournament. And she’d wail with laughter running out of time in Scattergories. She never shied away from feeling all of her feelings and that was really her superpower. It made her the embodiment of empathy.

Because my Auntie Jan has two boys, (my wonderful cousins) she and I got to do the extra girly things together. We would go shopping in Boston or Provincetown together and swoon over the gold Jack Rogers sandals. I’m remembering one summer, while looking at a beautiful pair of heels, she described them as super sexy shoes. I was young enough to not exactly know what that meant and thought she had said a swear word. I toiled over the thought of my angelic aunt saying a bad word for a month and eventually asked my mom what it meant. She laughed and said that beautiful things can evoke all sorts of emotions, that those shoes were just gorgeous!

So that her energy lives on, I’ll try to remember that feeling everything deeply is a strength. Like Auntie Jan, I’ll never hold in a kind thought- I’ll always say it. I’ll remember what going the extra mile can do for someone, and try to think of every interaction as a chance to boost someone up. I’ll recognize the joy in mundane moments while you’re living them. Appreciating things like cooking a good meal, sharing a story, watching the waves. I’ll say yes- yes to learning a new game, yes to trying a new sport, sure why not to a new job, always yes to supporting a friend. Auntie Jan left everyone lessons and inspiration as she was just figuring things out along the way herself.

Thank you for reading a little about my beloved Aunt.

I’ll leave a couple of poems I love below for anyone else grieving the loss of someone or something important. Life is so hard and so beautiful simultaneously.

Love,

Kellyn

this letter dedicated to my cousins, Connor and Liam