Disclaimer:This story reflects one perspective and is shared to spark discussion and connection. While inspired by real situations, some details may have been altered for privacy and clarity.
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While walking his dog in Santa Fe, a young man encountered Jacklyn, a 78-year-old seated under a cottonwood tree. Jacklyn greeted the dog warmly, reminiscing about a similar companion from her past.
As they conversed, Jacklyn shared that she moved to Santa Fe after her daughter was tragically killed in Denver in 1997 at the age of 25.
To honor her memory, Jacklyn got a tattoo of her daughter's face and carries her daughter's cherished stuffed bunny.
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| Photo credits: Thomas Elliott |
She looked at him and said warmly, “Well, hello there, handsome. I used to have a dog like this, years ago. Best company I ever had.” Her voice was kind but carried the weight of time.
He smiled and replied, “He seems to think you’re pretty great too. Mind if we sit for a minute?”
“Suit yourself,” she said, patting the empty spot beside her. “I was just enjoying the sun. Gotta soak it up while you can.”
They settled into an easy conversation. When he asked if she was from around there, she began to tell her story.
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She spoke quietly, eyes staring off into the distance. “Moved to Santa Fe after my daughter was killed in Denver. That was back in ’97.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said softly. “That must have been awful.”
“It was,” she said quietly. “She was only 25. Shot, just like that. For no reason.”
He nodded, unsure what else to say.
She gave a small, sad smile. “But you learn to live with it, somehow. This dog helps. Keeps me company.”
Her eyes softened as she looked at the dog resting his head on her knee. “He’s a good boy, isn’t he?”
“He is,” he said. “Looks like he’s got a good heart.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
She rolled up her pant leg, revealing a faded tattoo of a young, smiling face. “This is my daughter,” she said softly, tracing the ink with her finger. “I got this tattoo the year after she died.”
He leaned in a little, studying the tattoo. “It’s beautiful. Must’ve taken a lot of courage to do that.”
She nodded slowly. “It did. The pain was raw back then... but losing her was worse. Nothing could ever compare.”
He looked down, feeling the weight of her words. “I can’t even imagine. Did you always plan to get something like that?”
She smiled faintly. “No, it was something I decided on after she was gone. A way to keep her close.”
Then she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, worn stuffed bunny, holding it gently in her hands. “This was her favorite. She never went anywhere without it—even as a grown woman.”
He smiled softly. “That’s sweet. Shows how much comfort something simple can bring.”
She glanced at him. “Yeah. She was stubborn like that. Clinging to childhood things even when she was supposed to be ‘all grown up.’”
He chuckled quietly. “Sounds like she had a big heart.”
“She did,” she said, eyes shining with both love and sadness. “Twenty-five years old, still holding on to this silly thing. I guess now it’s my turn to hold on.”
He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m glad you shared that with me.”
She gave a small, grateful smile. “Thank you for listening.”
"Do you have family here?" He asked gently.
Jacklyn shook her head. "Nope. Haven’t had a significant other in 30 years. Never wanted to try again after my heart got broke the first time.
But you know what?" She leaned in, eyes bright despite the sadness. "I think I'm here to restore karma in the world. I try to do right by folks. Hold doors open, say kind words, feed the birds. Little things. It’s like... if I can balance the scales, maybe my girl’s somewhere peaceful."
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The conversation shifted after that, lighter somehow, like sharing her truth had eased the weight she carried.
As he stood to leave, she smiled and added almost as an afterthought, “Oh, and don’t bother asking about vaccines. I’m not getting any. God will take me when He’s ready, and that’s that.”
They laughed—not because it was funny, but because it was so perfectly Jacklyn: tough, tender, and fiercely certain of her place in the world.
Key takeaway:
Grief doesn’t end you—it just teaches you how to love differently. This woman is a living example of that.
3 Tips to Cope with Grief:
- Grief doesn’t have a timeline. You don’t have to ‘get over it.’ So stop asking yourself ‘what?’ Or ‘why?’ and start giving yourself some time to process it all.
- Ask yourself, ‘When was the last time grief was no longer accepted?’ People expect all the time that you must move on. But grief has no years, or months, or days. You must allow it the way it wishes to come, even in waves or sudden unexpected sadness.
- It is normal to react the way to feel like when processing grief. Cry if you feel like; mourn if you feel like; miss your loved one if you feel like and for as long as you want to. You don’t have to set a start and end timer to your feelings.
If you feel like writing it down can help you process your thoughts and feelings, you might try out these resources: My bad-day support kit; When overthinking won’t stop; or if you’re questioning what matters most.
Share in comments if you have managed through grief, without forcing yourself to ‘move on.’ You can also drop an email: hello@nostalgicgrandma.com
Thanks for reading. Find more inspirational and relatable stories—only at NostalgicGrandma. These stories exist to make you feel seen and remind you that you’re not alone.