ZOË EMERSON JACOBS

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Words & Images from Family & Friends

Please send us any writings or photos you would like to share about Zoë.

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Exerpted from Charting My Life - Chapter 70, Love Letter to Zoë

David Plakke

After hanging up with your dad yesterday, this was the very first visual that came to mind.

Do you remember back when you were just a tot, running up to me after I exited the bus?

With your head only coming up to my knees, you'd hug my leg. And then, planted firmly

on my foot, I'd give you that slow, bumpy ride to the backyard followed by

- on cue- your mom laughing, calling out, leave Dave alone.

Of course we knew this only to be lip service; your welcoming routine sorely missed the day you got "too old".

And now you're gone. It doesn't diminish our pain. But this isn't about us, is it?

So soar on kid. I do believe we'll meet again. Maybe next time, I'll be riding your foot.

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Zoe mentioned that she had some health complications at the end of her stay, but I would have never guessed that she had been suffering from chronic pain. She was so funny and always in a great mood. I hope this email isn’t triggering. Although I am no longer at GEMS, I thought I would share some Zoe-isms from my brief experience with her. 

She was literally a breath of fresh air in the office because we were so stressed out with planning the gala. We had maybe three weeks left to pull it altogether, and Zoe helped us big time. She took the photos for the auction items, helped pack maybe 450 gift bags, helped with tracking missing auction items and so much more. 

Zoe had such a relaxed, nonchalant personality, but I knew I could count on her to get things done. She was up to help with anything and was always so sweet. She questioned herself a lot, but it was endearing because she was finding her footing. 

She once joked that she didn’t believe in reading a book that was printed before 1970. I think my head almost exploded! What!!! Zoe, what?!? As a millennial former English major, I had to make the case for pre-1970 books for this Generation Z. She wasn’t convinced, but she said she would think about it. Lol 

There was also another time that we received a large package of what looked like pepper spray or mace, according to Zoe. These bottles were not labeled, and they looked sturdy, plain and possibly dangerous. Well, it turns out that they unlabeled screen cleaners!! Lol Zoe cracked herself up, and so did we. Zoe, then, suggested and helped us put labels on them so no one would think they were body sprays or something else. 

We talked about her future, and she said she was thinking about maybe taking up court reporter classes. I remembered going through the same thoughts when I was interning and unsure about what to do with an English degree. I loved how open she was about finding herself and learning new things. There were times that she mentioned that her grandmother was not well (in NJ I think?) and needed to work remotely. It was completely fine with me because I trusted her to do a good job. 

I regret that I didn’t keep in touch with her afterwards. I’m sorry that you are suffering this great loss. It’s so heartbreaking and unfair, but please know that she left a great mark with the 2017 team at GEMS. We will always remember her positive energy and good vibes. 

I heard that you wanted to donate her clothes to GEMS. I know this is a hard time, and I think that’s very selfless and kind that you were thinking of these girls. Zoe would have appreciated it. She also helped by calling random stores and vendors around NYC to obtain donations from coats to toiletries. She must have contacted at least 75 places. She didn’t intern long, but we appreciated everything she did for us. 

Again, I’m so sorry for your loss, and I’ll keep you and Zoe in my prayers. 

Best,
Mercedes Augusta

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Song (When I am dead, my dearest),  - 1830-1894

from Anne Avigdor

When I am dead, my dearest,
    Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
    Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
    With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
    And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
   I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
   Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
    That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
    And haply may forget.

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In Blackwater Woods

Mary Oliver

From Claire Ciliotta

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
 
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
 
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
 
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
 
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
 
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
 
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
 
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
 
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it
go,
to let it go.