My Son Jimbo
For those who never knew him …

Who Was Jimbo?

[Written by Jimbo's mother, Jinny, about seven years after his death, as the introduction in her book "My Son Jimbo"]

Ond day I realized that most of Jimbo’s nieces and nephews hadn’t yet been born in 1979. They are an unfortunate group to never have known this fun-loving young uncle who loved to play with kids of all ages. Perhaps when they are older they will read this and find out why their parents all loved him so. His brother and four sisters all helped to raise him, but it was more than that. He was our Renaissance man, bright, creative and inventive, with a wacky sense of humor shared by all his siblings.

He pushed to his limits and then some, which was great if it was a tennis or hockey match, but not so great if it was to test the boundaries I had put down. Then the bargaining would begin, and with his charm and tact he always got a little bit more. He’d look at me with his impish smile and his beautiful blue eyes and melt my heart. But he had to know where his boundaries lay–they were really a sanctuary to protect him from himself; he had to be a “good boy.”

He was mischievous and thoughtful, funny and serious, shy and outgoing, sometimes lazy, more often hard-working. He was wild and adventurous, but tender in his genuine love and concern for both animals and people. He was full of laughter and full of dreams. Life for him was a daring, glorious adventure. He was truly a golden boy and I will always miss him.

Tags: child, death, jimbo, mother, son

A note from Jimbo’s sister about this blog…

In 1979 my “baby” brother Jimbo was killed. He was just 18 years old, soon to go off to college and then to join his five siblings in the “adult” world. He wasn’t sure, did he want to be an architect or a star hockey player? What would college be like? How badly would he miss the dogs he was saying goodbye to? 

No one knows truly what thoughts he was thinking on August 10, 1979. He didn’t get the chance to share them. There is so much he didn’t get the chance to do and we didn’t get the chance to notice.

We were all devastated, my parents undoubtedly most of all. For myself, “just” a sister, I remember so much about my reaction. I went back to Denver and back to work, as a young associate in a law firm. At first, I was completely disoriented. I remember struggling to finish thoughts, as I would lose track of the beginning of a sentence before I reached the end. Not good for a lawyer!

But I also was angry, so angry, at everyone and everything. I remember thinking that what I was working on or what other lawyers were concerned about was just so trivial, it did not bear a moment’s attention. When a female partner for whom I was doing work said to me 3 weeks after his death, “But you’re all over that now, aren’t you?” I could only look at her in disbelief. 

It’s hard to really “get” it if you haven’t been there. You can read about grief, but what does it mean to lose someone you know so well, someone whom you expect to be part of your life forever? How can you tell people what someone was really like after he’s gone?

It’s said, “No parent should lose a child,” and any parent who has knows what that means. My parents know. And several years after his death my mother produced a spiral-bound book, titled “My Son Jimbo,” for those who never had a chance to know him. She thought to write it for all of Jimbo’s nieces and nephews who were very young or yet unborn when he died. But I have given her book to countless friends, and every one is touched by it.

So I’ve decided to let more of the world know, through this blog. I plan simply to go through the book, copying excerpts here. Perhaps I’ll add a story or two of my own, or add what my brothers and sisters might want to say. It’s just a tribute and an offering. I hope you get to know him as we have.

Jimbo’s sister, Sherry

Tags: brother, child, death, jimbo, mother, sister