One Last Meeting I Won't Be Attending

Before anyone starts freaking out, no, I'm not dying. As far as I know, I'm perfectly fine. Mike and I recently updated our will, and it got me thinking. If the day ever comes, I don't want someone standing at a podium reading a watered-down version of my life that sounds like it was written by a committee. I want people to know the real me.

The older I get, the more I realize that life can change in an instant. None of us are getting out of this thing alive, and pretending otherwise doesn't make much sense. So I decided to write my own eulogy. Not because I expect anything to happen anytime soon, but because if it does, I want my friends and family to hear my story the way I would tell it.

The good, the bad, the funny, the stubborn, the loud, the loyal, and yes, the occasional pain in the ass.

If nothing else, maybe it'll save someone the trouble of trying to explain me after I'm gone. Good luck with that job anyway.

✨

Jessica Taylor finally clocked out.

And if you're reading this, congratulations. I managed to miss one meeting I couldn't be dragged into.

Jessica spent 25 years as a police lieutenant serving her community before retiring and discovering that retirement mostly meant she now had more time to ask uncomfortable questions and less patience for bad answers.

She believed in three things above all else: truth, integrity, and empathy.

Not the kind people put on motivational posters. The real kind. The kind that costs something. The kind that requires courage when everyone else is looking the other way.

She wasn't always this outspoken.

Life has a funny way of sanding off your filters. After being burned more than once by people she trusted, Jessica stopped worrying about whether the truth made people uncomfortable. If something needed to be said, she'd say it. Sometimes privately. Sometimes publicly. Sometimes in front of an audience.

Especially if it needed saying.

She didn't sugarcoat shit.

She called it exactly as she saw it.

Some people thought she was hilarious.

Some thought she was rude.

Some thought she was crude.

Most thought she was loud.

All of them were right.

The truth is, Jessica didn't care much about being liked. She cared about being honest.

If she liked you, she'd bend over backward to help you. She'd give you her time, her energy, her resources, and probably the shirt off her back. She believed in handups, not handouts. She believed neighbors should help neighbors, communities should support each other, and nobody gets through life completely alone.

But if she didn't like you?

Let's just say there wasn't much room for appeals.

She had a gift for spotting nonsense from three counties away. Whether it was in city hall, a courtroom, a board meeting, a Facebook comment section, or a thrift store price tag, she could find it.

And once she found it?

God help you.

Jessica spent the second half of her life doing what she'd always done best: pulling back curtains, reading the fine print, asking the questions nobody wanted asked, and telling the truth even when it wasn't convenient.

She built businesses.

She built communities.

She built friendships that lasted decades.

She also built a garage full of treasures that Mike is probably still trying to explain.

Her dogs adored her.

Her cat tolerated her.

And honestly, that's about the highest compliment a cat can give.

If she could leave behind one final piece of advice, it would probably be this:

Stop treating money like it's the scoreboard of life. Money is useful. It pays bills. It buys dog treats. It keeps the lights on. Beyond that, it's just paper and numbers on a screen. You can't take it with you, and nobody has ever stood at a funeral talking about how impressed they were with someone's savings account. Work hard. Save some. Spend some. Take the trip. Buy the concert ticket. Order dessert. Enjoy the life you worked so hard to build. In the end, memories are worth a whole lot more than account balances.

And while we're at it, stop stressing about everything. Most of the things keeping you awake at night won't matter five years from now. Hell, half of them won't matter five weeks from now. Things usually work out. They always seemed to for me. Maybe not exactly how I planned, but usually better than I expected. Worry about what you can control. Let the rest go. Life is a lot lighter when you're not carrying everyone else's baggage.

Be kind to people. Help each other out. Take care of the elderly. Love animals. Plant a tree once in a while. Nobody ever made the world worse by showing a little compassion. The people who helped me the most weren't the richest, smartest, or most powerful. They were simply the people who showed up when it mattered.

And for the love of God, don't get too wrapped up in politics. It's two wings of the same damn bird. They'll keep arguing long after we're all gone. Pay attention if you want, vote if you want, yell at your television if it makes you feel better, but don't let it consume your life. Focus on your family, your friends, your neighbors, and your community. Those are the people who will actually show up when your water heater explodes or your dog gets loose.

Stand your ground when it matters. Put bullies in their place. Don't mistake kindness for weakness, because they're not the same thing. Some people need grace. Some people need accountability. Learn the difference.

And one more thing. Pretentiousness is gross. Real gross. Nobody cares about your title, your fancy car, your designer handbag, or how important you think you are. The older I got, the more I realized the best people are usually the ones sitting quietly in the corner with dirt under their fingernails and a good story to tell.

Slow down once in a while. Smell the air. Smell the flowers. Watch the sunset. Pet the dog. Call your friends. Laugh harder. Love bigger. Life moves fast enough without your help.

And only hurry if it smells like cow shit.

As for heaven, good luck.

They're about to get their first public records request.

See you on the other side.

Save me a glass of Bend Me Over Chardonnay.

And don't spend too much time crying for me.

I had a hell of a run. ✌🏻