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I met her in 1974 when I was a college student and she was part owner of a jewelry & candle store. I used to go there to buy candles and incense. We got to talking one day. She noticed I was carrying a book on witchcraft for an anthropology course, and I told her about my interest in wicca. She offered to teach me what she knew -- she had been taught by her Scottish grandmother. I studied with her for many years, attended countless rituals at her home, and was initiated by her alongside one of her daughters. She was a kind and gentle teacher, and she introduced me to Marion Weinstein's book "Positive Magic," and the concept of not using spells to harm or even to influence unwitting people.
Jezebel (her Craft name) was 21 years older than me, and had 8 children from a previous marriage. Her oldest daughter is two days younger than I am. In 1982 she designed and sewed my wedding dress while working on a wedding dress for one of her daughters. She also made our wedding rings. She was a woman with an amazing variety of talents and interests. She sewed beautifully, made handicrafts of all sorts including delicate bead work, worked as a professional silversmith, was a great cook, and wrote short stories that were published online. She had a beautiful speaking voice and was a devotee of Dungeons & Dragons. She loved life, and lived it to the fullest. She had lived in Texas and in Ecuador, but her favorite place was New Orleans. She also loved Scotland.
The last time we spoke by phone was a year ago, and she was worrying that her youngest son, who had lung cancer, would not live much longer. I also got the sense from her that she would soon be gone as well. I found out her son died in February. I live about 200 miles from her, and I tend to avoid using the phone, so she and I generally communicated by email. She had been focusing inward in the past few years, and I've been mired in serious depression, so I haven't stayed in close touch with almost anyone.
For some reason, in recent months I felt a huge void whenever I thought of her. I'd sent her a birthday card back in the spring, and was about to send her a long letter along with a Winter Solstice card. Last night I decided to check in the online Social Security Death Index. I typed in her name, and was not surprised to learn that she had passed away on June 2. I remember that day through a haze -- I'd just arrived at my cousin's house in Estonia, and was struggling to sleep away the aftereffects of the change in time zones. For some reason I felt depressed and miserable that entire day, even though I should have been ecstatic about this long-planned trip. I wish her oldest daughter had let me know, but I'm guessing she would have notified me in reply to my holiday card.
Dear Jezebel, I hope you are healed and happy in the Summerland. I will always bless you and think of you with love. Goddess bless you, always.
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