Miss Kathy

As a little southern toddler growing up in New Orleans, I’d occasionally slip and call my Aunt Kathy “Miss Kathy” – and she loved to remind me of that story.

Back in 1948, my Oma (grandmother for you non-German speakers out there) gave birth to her first child, a little girl. Nope, not my mom. My aunt. Growing up, I would hear stories about my mom and her sister, making me all the more desperate for a sister of my own, convinced I was missing out on a key life experience. I loved to hear the stories Aunt Kathy would tell about my mom (nothing salacious here, mom continues to be difficult to live up to!) and vice versa. Despite some hilarious sisterly bickering (AK would later in life admit that she was so terrible to mom as kid!), they became the closest of friends as the only girls with 4 brothers.

AK & Opa

She had a way of telling a story that sucked you in. It wasn’t just the words she used, but the inflections in her voice, the pauses in her sentences, and the expressions on her face. Occasionally, I’ll catch myself using a similar inflection or intonation when telling a story, and I always laugh inwardly, knowing where I picked that up. Her story-telling and ability to recount so many tales made sense – she was a librarian.  I remember her giving me the “top secret” passwords to the online resources of the high school library where she worked to aid me in some of my research in college.

I don’t think I ever told her my secret dream about becoming a writer. I wish I had. She would have been one of the first people I would have run to with my finished manuscript and asked for her brutally honest review.

Uncle Drew & Aunt Kathy

She (along with my dad), made me enamored with history. I have always been fascinated by people of that generation who lived through the Vietnam War. After she told me the story of her fiancé who was killed in Vietnam by a sniper, I did an oral report on him for school. I asked her a million questions. She told me stories about visiting West Point, and when I went to visit friends of my own at West Point, I excitedly returned and we huddled as I showed her photos from my trip.

When I went to college in Ohio, she made sure I had a supply of yellow smiley face cookies from Buskens – she told me they were to help me make friends. I never knew if I should take offense to the fact that maybe she thought I needed cookies to make friends ☺  And when I was rushed to the hospital one night in Oxford, with my parents 6 hours away, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Drew were there in a heartbeat, taking care of me, getting me back to their house, and keeping watch until my parents arrived.

She took such an interest. Not just in me, but in everyone. Was she really interested in the minute details of my daily grind in the consulting world in DC? I can’t imagine. But she always asked questions and always took an interest. She sent my dog birthday cards. Let me repeat, she took the time to send my dog a birthday card (because she knew, of course, that Fern was basically my child).

When Aunt Kathy was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer 4 years ago (after beating breast cancer nearly 20 years earlier), for a brief second, time stopped. I waited to wake up, to let the other shoe drop and find out that it wasn’t really what they thought.

Me, AK, & Mom - kicking pancre-ass ;)

Amazingly, God gave us nearly 4 more years with her – far longer than the average prognosis. We had more visits, more family vacations, more weddings, marshmallow guns, cupcake hats, shopping sprees, and Thanksgiving dinners. More time to hear more stories.

Even when she was at her sickest, I always pictured her at my wedding one day, always pictured her at future family events, even though the suppressed logical part of me knew that wasn't likely. Four months later, I suppose our family is still adjusting to our new normal. I can't truly do justice to AK in writing - perhaps I may never be able to. There is an inclination to make people out to have been saints after they pass away. So let me just say that she was an amazing, beautiful, wonderful person, and if you didn't know her, you missed out.

66 years. It seems like such a brief sprint. But when I think of all she did, all she saw, and all those whom she impacted during that time, it is incredible. It inspires me to live fully the way she did, and especially, to never stop learning.

AK, Oma, & Mom

Happy birthday, Aunt Kathy. We love you. Have fun celebrating with Opa.