Keeping Crystal's Light Shining

Crystal Rock-Jepson was wonderful. She was kind, funny, whip smart, loving, meticulous, deliberate, and a thousand other adjectives that poorly paint you a portrait of her. She was a published scientific author, a teacher, a fantastic cook and baker, a self-taught seamstress and DIYer, an avid reader with wildly varying musical tastes. She was my very favorite person in this world, and she made it a better place.

Crystal had a pulmonary embolism (PE) on 3/28/25, and was rushed to University Hospital in the San Antonio medical center. She had two heart attacks- one en route, and one in the emergency room. The hospital team could not get a heartbeat back after the second, and they put her on ECMO (extracorporeal membrane oxygenation).

The doctors told us she was basically the ideal candidate- she was relatively young, healthy, and they were able to put her on ECMO as soon as possible. There was terrible dread because of the PE-caused oxygen deprivation, but there was hope as well.

Over the next 48 hours, hope dwindled and disappeared. Crystal's body responded well to the support ECMO provided, but her brain did not. Despite the team's best efforts, she did not recover, and we agonizingly stood by as the final neurological test was given, to which she did not respond- and she officially died at 5:37pm on March 30, 2025. She was 37 years, 10 months, and 3 weeks old.

Losing her is the closest thing I have ever felt to having something torn out of my chest. The empty desolation of the final fading of hope is a harrowing memory that I will never escape.

She was an organ donor, and the Texas Organ Sharing Alliance (TOSA) was able to place both her kidneys, her liver, and her heart with four different recipients. Crystal is gone, but parts of her live on. I can only hope the four recipients make the most of a new lease on life.

Crystal's impact is far more than just saving lives through organ donation. Her family and friends are all better for having known her, and we will continue to remember and honor her as long as we are able.

I was lucky enough to call Crystal my friend, my partner, my wife, and my love, but I am not the only one who loved her.

Her mother, Patty, has only ever described Crystal as the perfect child, a loving kid who gives more than they take. They talked just about every other day, and they were with each other through good times and bad.

Crystal helped raise her niece, Raven, from when Raven was six years old. Crystal taught Raven to read, then later to drive. Crystal was Raven's aunt, but she was also their friend, shoulder, and cheerleader.

Ash met Crystal in college at Rensselaer Polytechnic, where Crystal studied for her BS in biomedical engineering. Roommates at first, they became best friends after moving out. They spoke nearly everyday about nearly everything. Between Ash and myself, we could likely paint you a picture of Crystal better than anyone else.

I could tell you the stories of how she met nearly everyone devastated by her loss, but I think I'd run out of space.

We were... one. Two halves of a whole. Our lives blurred and merged, as we grew ever close together. We did almost everything together- vacations, self-improvement, household projects. Each would carry more when the other needed it- we relied on and trusted the other through whatever hurdles and gaps life tossed at us.

The biggest leap we took was in choosing to become parents. What a gamble that is, and anyone who knows our daughter would tell you that we hit the jackpot with Autumn. We loved her the moment we saw her on an ultrasound, and we did everything we could to try to prepare for her. This was during 2020, mind, so the norm was very much abnormal, but we got through it together. Bringing Autumn home, caring for her, and watching her ever so slowly grow to be the articulate, energetic, considerate, assertive, wonderful little girl she is was a constant source of joy, frustration, hope, stress, and delight as only a beloved child can be.

We had the family we wanted.

Now it is just Autumn and me, and I am left to fill Crystal's shoes while still wearing my own. We have family and friends that are here to help, but there is so much to prepare for. We'd been planning to homeschool Autumn- gone. College is dauntingly expensive now- what will it look like in 14 years? The myriad adventures and experiences that we would have had together as a family, now with Autumn, me, and a memory.

I cannot ask you to donate. There are a thousand other causes that need help as well- one near and dear to Crystal's heart being the underrepresentation of women in medical research.

If, however, you do want to help, know that it will be used to help provide Autumn with the best life I can provide in Crystal's absence. This would be things like tuition for a private school, saving for college, covering emergency expenses, and sometimes just- letting a kid who misses her mom just be a kid.

If you'd like to know more about Crystal, or Autumn, or myself, or any of the thousand memories I have of her, I'll be slowly capturing them on my silly website. It's incomplete now, and may never be complete- after all, Crystal is part of who we are, and I hope to keep creating more memories for her for a long, long time.

If you'd like to share pictures or a story of Crystal, contact Brad Jepson. If you're not sure how, contact me through the Remembering Crystal contact option below. I'd love to include just about anything on my own website- it will be a treasure trove of pictures and stories for Autumn to vicariously get to know who her mama was.

Give your loved ones a hug, and never hesitate to tell them you love them. We certainly never did.