![]() ![]() The couple got to enjoy three years of married life together before Jazmin’s death on May 1, 2020. Jazmin and Eythan Henson share a laugh during their wedding ceremony in August 2017. She was an honour roll student at Marymount Academy and also briefly attended Laurentian University despite her illness. In 2017, Eythan also spearheaded an online fitness challenge called Burpees for Jaz, which aimed to raise enough money so that his wife could seek out alternative cancer treatment in the U.S.Īccording to an obituary that was posted on the Lougheed Funeral Home website, Jazmin grew up in the Greater Sudbury area and spent a lot of summers and weekends at her family camp on Onaping Lake. Jazmin’s story has already been widely circulated online, with her husband Eythan dedicating a significant amount of his social media presence on Tik Tok to sharing his memories of her. The book is set for a physical release on Oct. “So I like to think that she co-authored it with me, even though she didn’t know she was going to do that.”Ĭindy Henson showcases a copy of her new memoir Suitcases from Heaven, which details her daughter-in-law’s six-year battle with cancer that ultimately resulted in her death at 22. “Her quotes are at the front of every chapter,” Henson said. I’m writing for your short-temper and the times I cried over you.Īnd, oh, how I’ve cried over you.So over the next three years, Henson worked alongside Martin to turn her rough notes into a polished story, while also incorporating Jazmin’s own testimony, through her personal blog, to give it an extra layer of authenticity. I’m writing for the times you acted like I didn’t exist in front of your friend group and for the way you made me feel small and insignificant. I’m writing for the times I was asked to speak at an event and you would look away like my presence bothered you. I’m writing for the way you hit on other girls in front of me but would glare at me when I’d hit on other men. I’m writing for the stolen glances across rooms where neither of us would look away. I’m writing for that night I told you I didn’t like your hot and cold behavior and for the months after that where you ignored me. I’m writing for that night you snapped at me. I’m writing for the moments with you that live rent-free in my mind. I’m writing because of the way I can hear your laughter so clearly in a room whenever I make a joke that no one else laughs at. I’m writing for all of these moments where we were drawn to one another like a moth to the flame. And I’m writing because of every time we talked about books together and every time I made you laugh. I’m writing because of the way you look at me when I’m teaching or reading or talking about anything at all and you look completely interested in what I have to say. I’m writing because this ache I feel when I don’t see you is too much and knowing that I long to see you is even worse. I’m writing this because I can replay every instance of us together, every memory, every time you looked at me like I might’ve meant more than I do. ![]()
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