I have been up here, on this stage before. And Jennifer toughed it out that day as I nearly broke her hands while we exchanged vows because I was nervous. And I like to think that I'm not really alone now. It's been a world of surreal absurdity over the last few weeks. And the support of so many, from such different places has meant so much to me. We never really understand how many lives are touched and affected by others until things like this happen. As you can assume, I could talk about Jennifer forever almost. Knowing someone for 22 years would make that exceedingly easy. For those that don't know, we met in high school. We had an art class together. She made an A because she was excellent artist. My grade was purely based on participation and attendance. Why I waited almost all year to ask her out, I have no idea. I found out several years later that she told her mom after our first date “I’m going to marry that guy.” Give or take 5 years later, I proposed at Brennan’s. I was nervous, excited, and in love. And then we went to the Nutcracker ballet. We were bummed to hear that it burnt down during Ike. However, they rebuilt and one day soon, the girls and I will go back to the new Brennan’s for dinner. And the Nutcracker afterwards. She was talking to a family member from the midwest one day about a wedding they would attend. There was a gap from around noon until 6:00 for the reception. Jenifer asked the other person why the gap. The reply was "a lot of those people work on dairy farms. They have tasks and chores that have to be done." My wife thinks for a second and says "Why not just wait until it's not milking season?" And from that point on, any dumb question was met with "milking season" in our household. We drove most of the way to Alaska from Houston with a brief ferry ride. About Day 5, we were in Banff N.P. in Alberta. I'm driving along and a small black bear jumps up onto a Jersey barrier near the road and then into our lane. I stomp on the brakes and tell her to grab the camera, get out and take a picture. She tells me no way. I reply with "OK, how about standing up and taking one from the sun roof?" She's game and gets a shot as I creep closer. Then she sits down and says "You know, we're on the way to Alaska. We're probably going to see a few more bears over the next couple of years." Cleaning up the personal effects of someone who is a pack rat and in the Army is funny and scary all at the same time. I accept that there is a need for having military forms in triplicate squared. But do any person really need four copies of the same Dixie Chicks CD? Or biochemistry notes from her sophomore year at UT? Or every single piece of school work that the girls have done over the past two years? And even most of my attempts at arts and crafts with the girls. Sadly, most of the girls stuff is better than mine. And it's not really close. She kept a running commentary on life over the past few years. Thoughts like: Don’t bother going to an Italian restaurant in Alaska. Calling it Italian food is a lie when they are serving Beefaroni but marking it up 1000%. North is “Up” on a map. We are really, really far UP right now. Matter of fact, it’s so far UP that most maps don’t even bother to show where we are. Temperatures below 0 are kind of cool to experience. Once. BBQ on the west coast barely passes as poorly flavored meat. And Tex-mex is non-existent. Some places up here think Queso is melted then hardened cheddar over chips. That’s not queso. That’s a really boring plates of nachos. Rain. We need it. The plants and animals need it. Can someone please send some of this rain somewhere else? But at least were not out in the Olympics. There's a rain guage at Lake Quinault that shows the record of 180+ inches one year. Who went through that year and thought, "Hey, this is a great place to live." r>There’s a bakery in the Pike Place Market right next to the famous fish throwers. Maybe the bakery ought to start throwing cookies and donuts at people. No matter where the sun rises, it’s always burnt orange. For those that recently followed the drama of the Big XII realignment, I would have bored her to death with the details, the swings, the changes and the end result analysis. And she would have humored me by listening and having her own opinion. And she was ok with the fact that, during the fall, on Saturday, we weren’t going anywhere. The TV would be on, I would be switching between 2-3 games at a time and keeping one eye on the girls. We’d have lunch at home, the girls would play and when the Longhorns came on, unless the house was burning down, I was almost oblivious to the world. Being a mother thrilled her. Watching her do art projects with Elliot and Campbell was awesome even though I knew I was going to be the one who got to clean it all up eventually. Elliot would try to make something perfect and pretty. Campbell was just happy to have a pair of scissors or markers that she could do some real damage with. And I tried not to eat the glue. One of the last days we were all together, we went to lunch on Mother’s Day at a place that overlooks Puget Sound. That Sunday was one of the few “nice” spring days we had this year. It was warm and toasty in the sun and a little chilly in the shade. The girls did their usual “I want to sit by mommy” routine and Jennifer always enjoyed knowing that the girls wanted to be at her side. Elliot had picked out some earrings for Jennifer the day before at the Olympia Farmer’s Market and she could barely wait to give them to her. It was a perfect outing. One of memories. One for always. She was so proud to be a doctor. And she was damn good at it. I know she could have done any number of other things as well but none better. Watching her work hard through it all made me admire her. Hours and hours of studying. Rotations that took her away from home for 10 or 12 hours a day. Being on call sometimes every 4th or 5th night. Caring for patients and sharing the stories of people she helped. Doing it right and well. And while she got tired of dealing with Army when it came to her own health, I know she was proud to be a soldier. And she was good at it. She was so good at everything she did. Until recently, I used to wonder what she and I did with all the time before we had children. As I think back, we did a lot. Travel, lots of hard work, and a lot of fun times together. Now, I look to the future and ponder what will I do without her. I have two beautiful, magnificent daughters to serve as a constant and marvelous reminder of all that was good and decent about her. Smart, sensitive, funny, caring, kind. Shortly after she passed away, I got a note from a friend that closed with this line "May your daughters grow to be women like your wife was." I can think of no greater compliment to her. There will always be a hole in my life. A place where Jennifer fit in so nicely. And it will never completely close. She was loved by so many. And none more than me. The day she passed, I talked with my best friend. As we finished he said "Tell me what you need and I'll do it." At that point, I didn't have a clue what I needed. And then it hit me. "Call me in two weeks. Not to talk about this. But just to talk. And if I don't answer, tell me 'tag you're it.' And if I don't call you back in a few, call me back and kick me in the ***." Well, we've talked more often than that over the past 5 weeks. And it felt good. Keep in touch. Not just with me. But with your friends and family. Be a better person. Not for any other reason other than just because. Except because that’s what Jennifer would have done.
Don't make me cry at work Mac. I hate that you had to write this but it is beautiful and tragically poignant.
Mac, What a beautiful tribute. It sounds to me like everyone who knew Jennifer was better off for having known her. I wish I'd gotten that opportunity. , my friend, for Jennifer.
i am not ashamed to say that those words moved me to tears. you'll be in my prayers. may God give you and your daughters comfort.
I am moved by the great tribute you posted, Mac, thank you for sharing it with us. Even though I only met the two of you a few times a tailgates, it was easy to see Jennifer was a strong, accomplished, and intelligent woman, and of course possessing a great sense of humor which she so spectacularly displayed for the readers of HornFans. My wife occasionally says I should go prior to her demise because I would have to deal with her collection of art supplies, college notebooks which get moved from one closet to another, the garage, the attic, and back again, so I understand your task there. That remark about the girls growing up to be like their mother was a wonderful sentiment, and I hope they will realize they had a great role model. Again, you have my profound sympathy for your loss.
What a beautiful tribute to a very special woman. After all the comments on the toaster I had to find the thread - no wonder it was in Classics! She sounds like someone I would really have enjoyed knowing - what a sense of humor. And what a loss for everyone who knew her, most of all you and your daughters. From reading your posts I know that they will grow up to be women she would be very proud of.
I'm wiping tears away from my eyes as I type this - what a moving tribute. I pray that God will give you His strength as you move forward in your life. HHD
Mac, thank you for sharing this. All of us who have had the opportunity to "know" you two here on HF feel that we have lost one of our own family members. As Longhorns, we definitely have. Nothing any of us can say could bring you that ultimate peace which could replace what your wife brought you. I can say that you're tribute to your wife helps me determined to work for that special relationship with mine. My wife is like no other I've ever met and like Mrs. Macanudo is a wonderfully devoted UT grad and overall, a special human being. I take your advice and I commit myself to my wife like you have committed 22 years of life to yours. I do it for my marriage, it do it for love and... I do it for you and Jennifer. God bless you and your family.
man, that was a beautiful eulogy. not sure how you could deliver it and keep it together. prayers for you and your family. really makes you want to make sure you tell the people you love, that you love them on a regular basis.
Well done. I know that I am like a lot of others on this and other sites that have read and chuckled at your antics over the years but who do not have personal correspondence with you. From your posts, I know that you are a good man who has been blessed in many ways, though I am sure that it may not have seemed that way at times lately. For all of us lurkers, thanks you so much for posting that. I have thought about you nearly daily as I check the boards for realignment rumors, recruiting news, and Stoops puppy kicking rumors.
Wow.....I am not an emotional person, but this was very moving for me to read. We should all hope to have someone in our lives that we can build such wonderful memories with and speak such wonderful words about. A beautiful remembrance.
Mac, Well done, sir. A great tribute to a wonderful woman, doctor, friend, wife, and mother. A life well lived... Sadly, I have had to stand and deliver a eulogy over my best friend, my oldest child, and only son - Mitchell - who passed away at age 10. My heart hurts for you and your girls. My hope is that you can take some comfort from knowing that in THAT very moment...where you had to "stand and deliver" on a stage that you NEVER hoped to be upon.....you were perfect. I believe in Providence.....not Coincidence....and you are the very man, the very father, the very husband.....to lead your daughters through this tragedy. Nobody else is equipped to do what you can do....nobody can say what you can say....and you are perfectly suited to survive and thrive in the very difficult hours, days, weeks, and years ahead. I have never had such peace nor such a firm grasp on my purpose in life......as when I lost Mitchell. My prayer for you is that you find comfort in knowing that from afar......you are admired and held up in prayer. Keep Fighting and John Whitaker
Mac, it has taken me several days to respond...I guess because you and Mrs. Mac have always been so active on this site. It seems surreal that she is gone...like a dream. I can only imagine how you feel. All I can say is Godspeed to you and your girls...nothing will ever replace her...how can it? She was one of a kind. Just know that there are many of us that pray for you, think of you, hope the best for you in this trying and sad time.
The internet is a funny thing. I have never met you or your wife, Mac, but I have shed tears over your loss on more than 1 occasion. I tell stories you've posted here often. I will keep you in my prayers and hope that one day we can meet and enjoy a game together.
What an awsome tribute that was, Mac. I don't know how you were able to deliver it. When my wife died, I was such a mess, that speaking at her memorial/funeral at ALL was out of the question. I am awed, and humbled, by your strength. God bless you and your girls.
