Victor Matson Jarvis

Hello, everyone.
Thank you for being here today to remember Victor and celebrate his life. My name is Bonnie,
and I had the privilege of spending the last three and a half years with him.
Because of his traumatic brain injury, Victor could not communicate in the ways most of us do.
He communicated through facial expressions, small gestures, and movements of his right hand.
You had to slow down, pay attention, and learn his language. Once you did, you discovered that
Victor had so much to say.
When we first met, Victor was an angry and confused young man. He was trying to understand
what had happened to him and why he was where he was. During those first few weeks, I spent a
lot of time explaining things to him and reassuring him that he was not alone.
During every shift, I would read to him, sing to him, play music, talk with him, and pray over
him. We read the Bible, mystery books, and stories about people who had experienced challenges
similar to his. We began reading through the entire Bible together, and we were almost finished
when he passed. I finished it for him.
Victor worked very hard to communicate. He began learning sign language and returning to the
basics of numbers and letters. He tried so hard to speak. About two years ago, Victor suffered a
massive stroke that took away much of the progress he had made with signing. But we did not
give up. We simply found a new way to communicate.
We focused on facial expressions, and Victor became very good at them. He had all kinds of
smiles. He could frown, stick out his tongue, and even mouth some of the words to songs. His
smile could brighten the entire room, but my favorite was when he smiled big enough to show
off his dimples.
Victor’s right arm was incredibly strong. Sometimes working with him felt like wrestling with a
bear. He moved that arm everywhere and occasionally surprised the nurses, CNAs, and
respiratory therapists with a pinch—usually on the leg or the bottom. Victor certainly knew how
to keep everyone on their toes.
He enjoyed watching music videos and listening to Shawn Johnson preach from Red Rocks
Church. Even though Victor could only see about ten inches in front of him, he would focus
carefully and watch the entire message.
His cousin Nathan would send him YouTube videos. Victor especially loved one of Nathan
sitting in a pool and singing “Amazing Grace.” Every time I played it, Victor would smile so big.
You could see how much it meant to him and how deeply he loved hearing a familiar voice.
Victor’s sister, Ebony, would call and talk to him, and she would also come to visit. Whenever
Victor heard her voice or saw her, his whole face would light up. He especially loved the sound
of her laugh. It brought him so much happiness, and anyone watching could clearly see how
deeply he loved his sister.
Toward the end of his life, Victor was happy. He would pose with his strong arm and fist,
sometimes looking like the Thinker and other times like a muscle man showing off his strength.
Those moments made us laugh, and they showed us that Victor’s personality was still very much
present.
Victor was surrounded by people who cared about him. Visitors came to play music and read to
him. His friend Joe, who also lived with a disability, would stop by often to sit and talk with him.
Joe loved Victor, especially throughout this last year. The nurses, CNAs, respiratory therapists,
and other staff members cared for him and loved on him every day.
Victor was close in age to my own children, and he became very special to me. We decorated his
room with family photographs and lights that changed colors. I would show him pictures of his
family and friends, tell him who everyone was, and talk with him about the memories behind
each photograph. I wanted his room to feel warm, personal, and full of reminders that he was
known and loved.
Every shift, I read Victor two passages of Scripture: Isaiah 41:10 and Proverbs 3:5–8. Isaiah
41:10 reminded him not to be afraid because God was with him, would strengthen him, and
would hold him with His righteous hand. Proverbs reminded us to trust in the Lord with all our
hearts, even when we could not understand the path before us.
Victor taught me that communication is about much more than words. Love can be expressed
through a smile, the movement of a hand, a familiar song, a sister’s laugh, a prayer, or simply
sitting beside someone so they know they are not alone.
Victor, I miss you more than words can say. I miss your strength, your sense of humor, your
many expressions, and most of all, that beautiful smile with those wonderful dimples.
It was an honor to care for you, learn from you, pray with you, and love you. You will always be in my heart.