My Angel

My daughter/ My Angel

As I think of her now, my angel, she seems almost dream-like. I can't quite see her face, or hear her laughter anymore. That saddens me. It's been fifteen years since I gazed into those blue eyes of Jessie's and felt those loving arms around me.

Her thick dark blond hair refused to curl; attempts with curling irons, rollers and perms resulted in short lived curls or waves. Jessie's skin was as fair as any Disney princess. Five foot ten inch tall, her body was perfectly proportioned, though she was a bit overweight. Jessie tried to conceal her tiny nose stud from me, but I knew, and secretly, I thought was it cute. Her smile, sometimes a bit like Mona Lisa, but often silly, was her most memorable feature. My angel was beautiful, but she didn't know it.

Wearing a long black, or sometimes purple, skirt, t-shirt, and combat boots, Jessie painted her eyes dramatically dark. Her Goth dress, a way to hide her fears and protect herself from others. Instead of a purse, Jessie carried a teddy bear backpack whom she named Moonbeam.

There was a beautiful, almost childlike sweetness about her. Jessie was gullible; tell her anything and she believed you. Jessie was always ready to listen, her embrace, bringing comfort to so many. If a fight broke out, she would intervene, calming everyone down. One of her friends told me recently that before making decisions, he asks himself, “What would Jessie have done?”

Jessie frightened easily; so many times I opened a door, only to hear her let out a little scream. Jessie came to me at work one day, crying, sure she was dying. One night, hitting a deer with her car and doing only minor damage to the mirror, Jessie was deeply upset. Did she have a premonition of what was to come? I've always wondered.

Jessie's “Angel Day” is Wednesday, March 5, 1997. Her sweet life taken away by a monster, bent on his own destruction. He carjacked, raped and murdered an eighteen year old girl, who was sick and on her way home from school.

Jessie was my baby, my only daughter, now she is my angel. If only...

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