A generous soul passes away

Jenny. If you were fortunate enough to have met her, you may have got a taste of what it means to be soulful and authentically human, with a heart larger than life.

Despite her unmistakable humility, Jenny’s professional work and worth are well attested to. She will remain a greatly respected and admired writer, editor and communicator — a true professional in an industry that can lack professionalism.

Though not born in this country, she embraced Jordan with her warm heart just as passionately as we did her.

She was one of the best editors-in-chief The Jordan Times has had at its helm. She was attuned to political nuance and subtleties, and deciphered complex political situations very ably.

Never one to get overwhelmed by dicey local or regional issues, Jenny maintained her focus — and she knew what mattered.

Undoubtedly, she navigated with her conscience and inspired others to follow suit.

Very little, if anything, threatened or scared her. She cultivated hope by encouraging the talent she spotted in younger professionals, many of whom she mentored and adoringly referred to as “kiddos”.

Yet all this pales next to who she was as a human being.

I write “human” because she was attuned to people before politics, to souls before sources.

When she connected with others, she embodied the genuineness and authenticity that swim up-tide in today’s world.

Fiercely loyal to her friends, she stood stalwart by those who needed her in times of vulnerability, including the late Abdallah Hasanat and other friends.

She kept vigil by Abdallah’s side, making sure he knew how much he meant to his friends and how much his life and professional journey mattered even in the larger scheme of things.

She certainly had her priorities right.

That Jenny was well-grounded and held a solid head on her shoulders is no secret. She provided support to her husband Mustafa at Georgetown University as he worked on his PhD. And in the midst of her most trying medical challenges she remained solidly centred.

Her strength enabled her to sail through what the most sturdy among us would not endure.

To me, and I suspect to many others, she was “Super Woman”.

And it was her softness that made her such a powerful presence in the lives of many.

When my husband was diagnosed with brain cancer at the time Jenny herself was undergoing gruelling experimental therapy in the US, she told me we could “hang out” together at the National Institute of Health’s Cancer Centre. She made it feel like a play date, though there was nothing playful about her disease.

She approached cancer so bravely and matter-of-factly that I found myself actually looking forward to being there with her and Mustafa on their numerous treks between Amman and Washington, DC.

As I write this obituary, I realise that with her words and actions, Jenny was helping my husband and I (as she was helping many others) deal with what she knew was one of the worst fears one can face.

She had been to the same painful place; with her bright soul, she held up a candle for my husband to light his way forward, and held my hand to ease both of us into the same space with which she had bravely grown all too familiar.

She did the emotional hugging with her signature largesse that is etched in my heart and in the hearts of those who love her. You would have expected that someone undergoing such treacherous experimental treatment would have wanted morale boosting from others. Not Jenny.

She provided those around her with support, including fellow cancer patients on the ward.

She put up a dignified fight against a horrific disease and never complained, though she probably had plenty of reasons to do so.

She never lost her bearings. On the contrary, she shared the most basic thing she had — her humanity — and she did so with incredible generosity.

In good health, she had shared her home, her cooking and her garden with her generous heart. In sickness, she shared her soul.

When she passed away this Wednesday, Jenny did not “give in”. She simply gave — as she had done all her life.

She gave in intellect, intelligence, emotions, wit and humour.

She held herself accountable to being a human being — and she did it brilliantly.

The thought of Jenny being gone is very painful. But the thought of Jenny herself is healing.

May you rest in eternal peace, Jenny, sweetest of souls.

Jenny is survived by her loving husband, Mustafa Hamarneh, and brother, Kenny Flaherty. She is loved and adored by many around the world and in Jordan, where she is one of us.