Jacksene Corriveau Memorial Video скачать в хорошем качестве

Jacksene Corriveau Memorial Video

Thank you to Austen Bower for creating the video and for all those that helped. Songs: "I Know You" - Bellarive & "You're Beautiful" - Phil Wickham. Jacksene James Baptiste Corriveau Remembrance, Aug. 10, 2000 – Jan. 12th, 2016 –by his sister, Lindsay Corriveau: Most of you knew my brother as a handsome, suave athlete with a million dollar smile. That’s all well and good, but as his sister, I knew the truth. My brother came into this country from Haiti in June of 2009, with pink underpants, skinny arms,and an unyielding appetite that we would later come to realize would never be satiated. One of the first things we did as a family that summer was to take a trip to Maine. It was there that he discovered his love of body boarding, the ocean, and lobster. I mean it, he loved lobster. My sisters and I would pass the time teaching him funny English phrases like, “I am fabulishious”, and “puffer fish”. He had such a cute little accent that we couldn’t resist. And in all of that time, the only thing I learned to say in Creole was,“moi sesue” which meant “I am your sister,” which I tried saying on the day he arrived, and to be honest, I have no idea if I was saying it right. But he did smile. So through baseball games, wrestling, soccer matches, and every other sport imaginable, Jacksene grew up. And I’ll tell you, the boy graced through that initial bout of puberty like a swan. I left for college and his voice was still higher than mine. Then I called home a month later and got this low “hello?” on the other line. My first thought was honestly, “Oh my word, my mother is having an affair!” --But the sisters and I kept him humble. We used to roll down the window of the car when dropping him off at school and shout out how handsome he was. It always embarrassed him, but I think he liked it. Dante still doesn't. But it didn’t matter anyway, because Jacksene’s confidence was tenacious; a thing I always admired that about him. Most of you know about his excellent taste in bright, high knee’d socks which we tried countless times to convince him not to wear with the unmatched shorts he had on. He would respond by saying, “the girls like it.” We said they didn’t. We were wrong. By and by, having Jacksene for a brother was easy. He was one of the politest, sweetest boys I‘ve ever met. He never seemed to complain about having to help out at home. He didn’t even complain when he moved into my bedroom as I left for college, even though the walls were pink and covered in fairies. He did eventually help me to paint it a sea foam green color, which I picked it out because I know how much we both loved the ocean. His friends knew him as an athlete, peacemaker, and charmer. His family knew him as a quiet boy with an incredibly complicated past. Despite his multitude of blessings, Jacksene did suffer a lot of pain. His migraines in particular, left him both physically and mentally incapacitated. In that time spent alone, he experienced things he didn’t understand, and felt pain we couldn’t see. He was never one for many words, and in the end, word’s failed him completely. But despite the fact that Jacksene kept a lot to himself, we can give thanks for all of the things he did not. Like his hugs, which were warm. His smile, which was utterly infectious. His time, which he’d give you whenever you asked. And his love, which moved quietly and held tightly. He knew my mom would always buy his Siracha sauce on sale, and that my dad would be there to embarrass him at his games. He knew Dante would follow him without relent. He knew my sisters would tease his fashion, poke his abs, and always save him a piece of steak. And he knew that when I gave him a hug, he would not get to leave until he hugged me back. I’m not sure he knew, however, how much we’d miss him. But that was Jacksene. A reckless, clumsy boy who ate like a horse and took camping trips in the snow. He was my film buddy with the million dollar grin. A boy with excellent taste in socks. And, if Jacksene could say anything to you now, he’d tell you how blessed he was to have such incredible people in his world for the short time he walked it. He’d thank you for the dedication and support. He may have even apologized for breaking so many hearts, as it was clear he never met to hurt anyone. He’d tell you that he loved you more than he could show. And, most importantly, he’d tell you that not ever, not once, did he forget just how much he was loved.