RIP Jessica Guidry

Sunday morning brought us some terrible news. Jessica (our neighbor in Bryan) was in ICU and things were not looking good. We jumped in the car, and confirmed the worst when we saw her.

Several days ago, she was on her roof, painting the exterior of her home with Ben, her coworker/friend/handyman. Clearly she felt fine. Friday, she thought she had a stomach virus and missed that weekend of work. Tuesday, Ben showed up for the next batch of painting and took her to the ER. Emergency surgery found a perforated bowel and Stage Four colon cancer. She then became septic, and a second surgery was required….but she never woke up from that one or came off the vent. When we visited her room, I just held her hand and stroked her hair.

She did hang on until Casey, the love of her life, could arrive from Boston. His need-it-now flight was delayed when something on the plane broke. He got in Monday morning just before 4am; she passed just a couple of hours later.

She was E’s “movie wife”. I was her “wife-for-a-week”/#AGoodWife two times this summer while she was trying to get organized again after losing her dad this past Mother’s Day. I also spent many of our Thursday night trips to Bryan with her and Marble (the cat we rehomed with her). In spite of our move to Austin, we stayed close and saw each other regularly.

She was 47 years old. Forty-freakin’-seven.

Jessica is survived by a big supportive family in Cut Off, Louisiana. Her friends are a vast collection of weirdos (guilty!) and odd ducks. She’s the one who kept in touch with everyone, even her ex-husband’s sister and their kids. Since her dad passed only a few months ago, she leaves behind an un-probated will, two homes/estates, 1.5 cars, and Marble. (He’s going to Boston with Casey…which is truly perfect.) Jessica was single, an only child, and has no children. She was preceded in death by both her parents.


Jessica, I’ll miss you more than words can say. I already do. Rest in peace…free from pain and machines and heavy drugs. I hope you had a sense in those last few hours and days of how loved you are.

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