Trigger warning: suicide
While I might wish to resist the urge to glamorize my life, sometimes Hollywood manages to capture reality in an astonishingly accurate way.
My life could easily be mistaken for a film script. This isn’t just my opinion; a friend of mine agrees.
Nine years ago, I found myself sharing my life’s saga over lunch with my high school drama buddy, Ryan. We had made a pact to swap our saddest stories, with the winner exempt from paying for Cheesecake Factory.
I started with my love story—a charming young woman from Boston falls for a dashing soldier who defuses bombs in Oklahoma. After countless phone calls, a few failed romances, and a couple of deployments, they eventually marry and welcome three children in quick succession.
“Okay,” Ryan said, “that’s definitely Hallmark material.”
“Just wait,” I replied, teasing him.
In the next chapter, they faced challenges as the soldier pursued his education while their eldest bravely battled cancer and emerged victorious. Together, they celebrated their triumph when he returned to the military and gained admission to an elite medical school.
“Maybe we could pitch this as a Lifetime movie script,” Ryan allowed, but warned me to keep my credit card handy. “Lunch is on you, my friend.”
“Just wait and see,” I insisted.
However, my tale took a darker turn. My marriage began to crumble as my husband grappled with emotional turmoil and suicidal thoughts—perhaps a consequence of his dangerous work. Then, just five months after I made the difficult decision to leave for my own safety and that of my children, my husband—my charming, funny soulmate—took his life in the very hospital where he was a respected OB/GYN resident.
Ryan shook his head, fighting back tears. “I can’t believe this,” he murmured. “This story is too much. You’re trying too hard to evoke sympathy.”
He suggested I tone it down: lose the childhood cancer subplot or have the soldier survive instead. Without a redemptive arc, he believed, my story would be too tragic to sell.
After our lunch, I felt defeated. I despised the ending of my story. As someone who has always cherished fairy tales, my reality felt like a cruel twist of fate. I was losing faith that any divine intervention could rewrite my narrative.
In the years following my husband’s passing, I attempted to reshape my life into a tale of survival mixed with horror. I aimed for “hopeful,” but it often felt “pathetic.”
Two Christmases after my husband’s death, I met Michael Jensen. Our family was invited to a charity event called Snowball Express in Dallas, where Michael was performing with his band to uplift children who had lost parents in military service. At that time, I was still navigating the aftermath of loss and feeling isolated as others moved on.
“We will always remember you. We care about you,” Michael assured me, and something in his voice made me believe him.
Years later, despite many having forgotten their promise to us, Michael Jensen and his foundation have remained steadfast. The Gary Jensen Foundation continues to support my children and countless others through the annual Snowball Express event, providing us with love and cherished memories just when we need them most.
Recently, they relocated the event to Walt Disney World, allowing my kids and me to enjoy all-expenses-paid vacations there for the past two years. Each December, my children eagerly anticipate seeing Michael at the airport, where he greets them by name.
When 2020 began, the prospect of gathering at the happiest place on Earth seemed dim. Ultimately, we learned that Snowball Express would not happen in person this year, which left us heartbroken.
A few weeks later, we received an invitation to a virtual Snowball Express experience. My now 18, 16, and 14-year-olds rolled their eyes at the thought of virtual fun—it couldn’t compare to real-life adventures. Nevertheless, we signed up.
Days before the event, I received a call from the Gary Jensen Foundation asking if a film crew could visit our home to document our participation in the virtual events. Although we were hesitant about having strangers in our home during such an uncertain time, we couldn’t refuse “Uncle Michael” and the dedicated team that supports us yearly. So, we tidied up and prepared for the unexpected.
As it turned out, love transcended the digital barrier just as powerfully as it does in person. Less than an hour into the filming, my kids were busy making pancakes, joking and laughing as they participated in a virtual cooking demo. They reminisced about their dad and created pancake variations he used to make.
In that moment, I understood that my love story, in its truest form, was not centered on me, but rather on my children. They have grown into compassionate beings who seek to spread the love they’ve received.
Somewhere between loss and joy, they aspire to embody the kindness of their father and the generosity of Michael Jensen.
Hollywood, often criticized for its self-centered nature, has become a backdrop for selflessness in our lives. Each year, numerous celebrities and volunteers remind my children that the greatest purpose in life lies in helping others, serving, and inspiring.
Though we missed the in-person magic of Disney this year, we discovered a new chapter in our story—one that reflects resilience and hope. Our journey is no longer just a tale of loss but a testament to the strength we’ve found in community and love.
In this unexpected narrative, we’ve learned that the most profound stories are not always tied up neatly but leave us feeling that the best is still ahead.
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Probable Search Queries:
- How to cope with grief during the holidays
- Charitable events for children of fallen soldiers
- How to create meaningful family traditions after loss
- Virtual events for families dealing with grief
- The impact of celebrity charity work on communities
Summary:
This heartfelt narrative chronicles how Michael Jensen and his foundation have provided unwavering support to a family grappling with loss during the holiday season. Through the annual Snowball Express event, they foster love and community while reminding the children that they are cherished and remembered. The author reflects on her journey of resilience, ultimately discovering that love and kindness can flourish even in the aftermath of tragedy.
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