Jacqueline Mae Christie

Mom, the minute you left us in the early morning hours of March 2, we forgot this horrible disease and its accompanying indignities that you so hated. We won’t think again about the fear, anger and sorrow that tagged along with the confusion. We’ll forget that you weren’t given the restful, long, joyous send-off you deserved. Instead, we’re going to remember those warm chocolate chip cookies that were better than all other cookies in the world, despite the fact you swore they were simply the Toll House recipe. And those incredible pies! Our cellulite will never let us forget those pies. We’ll remember how you worked long hospital shifts every day, then spent afternoons driving us to our various practices, yet still managed to have a delicious home-cooked meal on the table every evening. (We’ll also try to remember that we maybe shouldn’t write obituaries when we’re hungry.) We’ll remember the pride we felt seeing you walk down the school halls and gyms for every function and sporting event, even the ones in the middle of a work day. Because our Mom was the only mom we knew who worked a professional job when we were growing up and that made her, and us, special. We’ll always remember that you were valedictorian of both your high school and University of Michigan graduating classes and wouldn’t even eat dinner unless your homework was done. (Trying to forget what a nerd you were.) We’ll remember your 30+ years of work as a medical technologist, then lab supervisor, at the University of Tennessee Medical Center and how cool it was that our Mom worked in blood and science and for the betterment of all. How can we ever forget that you took care of a newborn and toddler, while working full-time, when your husband was a soldier in Vietnam? Or how you volunteered to pick up your grandchildren from day care several times a week for years, and were our first call whenever we needed help with anything. We’ll also be reminded of you every time we pay our therapists, since you shared that caregiver anxiety trait with a few of us. We’ll think about you when we see a beautiful rose, take a long walk on the beach, notice an alphabetized spice rack or lie on freshly pressed sheets. (Though don’t count on the latter, because what psycho irons sheets anymore.) We’ll remember your sense of humor and your funny asides that we probably shouldn’t have heard, but are so glad we did. We’ll be a little resentful that you didn’t pass on your amazing singing voice to both daughters, but we’ll find joy in the memories of you singing and dancing. We will try to forget all the iodine you poured on our open wounds, and that time we saw a big snake near the house and you ran inside screaming, locking your youngest child outside––with the snake. Or how you couldn’t manage to introduce the miracle of make-up or tweezers to your daughters, who, fortunately, had really great personalities. And that no drink could be set down for more than 14 seconds, without being banished to the dishwasher. Most of all, we are going to remember your kindness, your strength, your faith and your insistence on putting everyone before you. We’ll remember the love with which you cared for your husband, your daughters and your five grandkids who adore you. You somehow managed to live an entire, wonderful life, without an unkind word or deed. In your memory, we’ll try to do good and be happy, which is all you ever wanted. Jacqueline Mae Christie is preceded in death by her parents, Glen and Edna McCarthy, and her husband, Robert Francis Christie. She leaves behind her daughter Lisa, grandsons Hank and Mateo and their dad Chris Trimble; her daughter Kathleen, son-in-law Chris Fortune, and their children Scarlett, Augustus, Lucy and her fiance Sam Parker; her loving siblings, brother Robert McCarthy and his fiance Teri Chambers, sisters Laura Townsend, Barbara McCarthy and Sharon Mangapora, and all of their children, who were such an important part of her life. We will celebrate the life of the kindest woman we know with a small service at the Veterans’ Cemetery on John Sevier Highway on Monday, March 18, at 10 am, and then again this summer with her family at some beach to be named. Where we will drink wine and happily lose repeated games of Scrabble in her honor.

Tributes

Jacqueline Mae Christie

March 2, 2024