Love
Kate
This memorial website was created in memory of our loved one, Monique Meyer.
Monique was born on July 21, 1968 in Shreveport, Louisiana.
She attended St. Joseph School in Jeanerette, Louisiana and earned a Bachelor's Degree from the University of Southwestern Louisiana in Lafayette. She earned a Associate degree in nursing from Galen College School of Nursing in 2014, finishing at the top of her class. Students who attended nursing school with Monique tell of her tireless work in her studies and the help she was always willing to give to her fellow students. One of her classmates said of Monique, "That girl got me through school".
In her first job after graduating, working in Hospice care, she found her true calling in life. She was a generous and nurturing person with a wonderful sense of humor, a perfect combination for someone caring for people who are near the end of life. She was loved by her patients and highly respected and valued by her co-workers and employers. It was her goal to become a certified Hospice Nurse, and eventually become a director of nursing in that area of practice.
She spent most of her life giving unselfishly to those who knew her, and always lightened the mood with her humorous view of people and life. To those who knew her, Monique was a daughter, sister, student, teacher, friend, caregiver, wife and mother. She was a true and loyal friend and touched the lives of most who knew her.
But, Monique would quickly say, if asked, that her greatest treasure was her son, Bobby. She was a dedicated mother who gave her son a good sense of humor, a solid work ethic through example, and the capacity to love and care for others.
By all who had the privilege of knowing her, she will be sorely missed.
Monique is survived by her husband Andrew Meyer; her son, Bobby Palmer, Jr.; her stepchildren, Nicholas Meyer and Dianna Meyer; her parents, Raymond E. Allain, Sr., and Rebecca Motty Allain; a brother, Raymond E. Allain, Jr. and wife Ashley, of Naples, Florida; sisters, Virginia Traylor and huband Rob, of Lompoc, California; and Jennifer Bakale and husband Robert, of Meyersville, Maryland. She is also survived by three nieces Lauren Allain, Madeline delaConcha, and Emily Allain; and two nephews Colin and Liam Bakale, all of whom knew her affectionately as "Monkey"; and 16 Aunts and Uncles and 30 first cousins.
In a last final act of selflessness, Monique chose to be a registered organ donor giving the gift of life to others. There will be a memorial service held in Monique's honor on Sunday, May 15, 2016 at 1:30pm, at the VFW in Helotes, San Antonio, Texas.
In lieu of flowers, the family suggests memorial contributions be made in Monique's name, to the charity of your choice.
At the risk of revealing too much, the writing helps me so I will indulge.
We all as children generally choose one of two paths, to emulate our parents or to be different.
While the reason for the former is almost universal, the reason for the latter is many. I chose the latter for reasons I cannot really even explain anymore.
My sister chose the former and our roads forked at that point.
We traveled our own paths, and while we were never estranged, the closeness and intimacy we shared as little children and adolescents seemed to wane.
At first we didn't confide, then we became stubbornly entrenched, and finally just apart.
We frustrated each other over the years with our decisions and choices, pretending to understand the others when we didn't even understand our own.
Silently and unintentionally we ascribed motives, made judgements, and resisted the bond. I will now never know, or understand her reasons, and am left to ruminate over mine.
At the moment these seem selfish and shallow, and I long for the opportunity to claw back the years and forge different memories. This however, is as futile as it is tragic.
As the replay reel rolls continuously in my head, all I can see at the moment are the missed opportunities and it cuts to the bone.
A month ago she reached out to me, and expressed her desire to bring our paths closer, and she confessed that she was guilty of apathy and neglect in our relationship, and felt that I had judged her and thought poorly of her for her choices.
And in that exchange, I realized the depth and breadth of the divide caused by silence.
I told her that this was not the case, and that what my real challenge had been was not understanding who she was. A simple question with no simple answer.
She seemed relieved, and anxious for us to get to the business of rebuilding, and driving our paths onto a common route and so was I.
We spoke again after that, and things seemed to be different...
Two weeks later was Mother's Day and I sent her a txt wishing her a happy one, to which she didn't respond.
I didn't think much of it, she wasn't my mother, and I waited. Then, Thursday afternoon on the way home, I thought of her. I wondered what she was doing and why she didn't respond and I thought to call her.
Then I did what I have done for 30 years, I said I would do it tomorrow, and seven hours later she died.
I realize that even if I had called her, the laments may vary in tenor, but they would still be present, however, this particular one is hard..
It was at the core of why we diverged in the first place, as well as our last opportunity, and it was squandered.
This isn't a story of woe is me, or my personal tragedy, it is a lesson I will share with anyone I care about, if for no other reason but to spare them the burden of the sorrow I feel right now.
My father in law, whom I was very close to, told me something a long time ago that resonated, even though I couldn't understand it until much later.
He said, "Ray, life is all about relationships."
What he meant was that your time and energy should go towards the people you value, and it should be sincere and genuine.
If they value you, a relationship worth having you will have. If they don't reciprocate, you have lost nothing, and they have lost you.
I try to use that lesson as a core value in my life today, yet I didn't apply in where it was most deserving. I always thought there would be another, better, or more perfect time.
She didn't need perfect, she only needed me.
Today is the opportunity we all have, and those moments are precious, not only to the loved ones we touch, but for the nourishment of our own soul.
I will not make the mistake again.
I'm sorry if I went too far, but my heart is heavy and I didn't want to waste another opportunity.
June 2004 –
Your favorite “Mexican” food was, for the longest time, flautas (Until you discovered Migas!). Seasoned meat wrapped in a flour tortilla and deep fried. But even upon my insistence that I had never seen anything like that in all my years growing up IN Mexico, you, on our honeymoon in the middle of Mexico, wanted flautas. I tried to entice you into the, literal, hole-in-the-wall restaurant we had passed many blocks ago with the simmering clay pots of a variety of delicious options. As a new groom who had made his new bride travel 12 hours on a bus into the heart of Mexico for their honeymoon (I really did feel bad when the federales stole your jewelry at a checkpoint!), and had now become intimately aware of the word “hangry,” who was I to argue? Like all beautiful cities, San Miguel de Allende had its seedier side, and, lo and behold, that’s where YOU found a place that sold flautas!
We didn’t go in there. Whether I made you nervous about it or it just looked that seedy, you said, “Uh. No.” But if my lover wanted flautas in the middle of Mexico then I was going to get them.
I didn’t always give you everything you wanted but you often told me I gave you enough. I hope I did. I really do.
I miss you.
After nearly 4 months apart, we had 3 ½ hours together.
They were Good hours.
We talked about:
How we missed and loved each other
Work
Friends
Her art work projects
Family
Food we liked
Me moving back to SA
What was most bothering us
We complimented each other
Being depressed
Being happy
Our love for each other
Who annoyed us
People we missed
Our children
Our health
Even talked about cremation services
Said I love you and I miss you
I told her she was beautiful and that I was proud of her
We also
Held hands
Hugged
Kissed
Laughed
We made out in an elevator
We made love
We visited places
Held hands
Kissed in her car
Were stupid together
Went out to eat
Said I love you
We went shopping together
Loved on each other
Laughed
Got scared
Loved each other
She was 47
That was just 3 ½ hours of being with Monique.