In Memoriam

11 Sep

It’s been a while since I’ve posted here on For Antonina.  First it was because of new job/new house craziness.  That was followed by a bout of mid-summer laziness.  And just when I had vowed to get back in the swing of things with a recipe for delicious basil pesto (I even took pictures of my herb garden), I was hit with a wave of excruciating sadness.

As many of you know, my father died, out of the blue, in August.  I received a call from his neighbor that he was being taken to the hospital on a Monday.  By Friday, after only four days, he was gone.  As many of you also know, he was a big part of the reason I was able to quit my job, move halfway across the country, and save money to buy my very first home.  He allowed me to live with him throughout the inaugural winter and spring I was in Denver while I hunted for a new gig and new digs.  I joked that we almost murdered each other about ten thousand times.  But it’s funny how quickly one goes from saying “I had to live with my dad for five months at age 35.” to “I got to live with my dad for five months at age 35.”

My Dad

My brother and I spread his ashes at sunset along the shores of Lake Michigan last week, on the beautiful beach in front of our cottage in Pentwater, Michigan; the tiny town my family has been vacationing in since 1960.  An avid fisherman and sailor, he would have loved that.  He was also a Vietnam-era medic in the Navy, so we were able to give him military honors, with a 21-gun salute and a service from some veterans.  The guys from the local VFW hung around with our family at our house afterward for beers and apps.  He would have thought they were a hoot, with their stories, anchor tattoos, and insistence on referring to the Marines they knew as “jarheads.”

So the official story is that “my moods are oscillating” and that I’m sad every day… but trying to get back to normal.  Unfortunately, I have had to redefine my idea of “normal.”  More unfortunately, this new normal was not to be the case for long.

My grandmother, T, the woman for whom I began writing these stories, the namesake for my blog, my Twitter handle and my Instagram account, passed away late last night.

If you’ve ever read the “Why” section of For Antonina, you know that T had Alzheimer’s for a few years.  So, this past year in particular, she was not the woman that I adored growing up, just a sweet stranger with a familiar face.  And you can’t possibly understand this unless you knew her as I did (and as the rest of her family and friends did), but she was truly the nicest, most wonderful woman I think I have ever known.  And even though at the end of her life she was unable to eat or drink anything for more than a week, the nurses said she kept going “because she has such a good heart.”  I found that very poetic.  She honestly did have the best heart.  Always patient, never spiteful, loving and kind, she possessed the qualities that many of us aspire to, and did it with a quiet grace that I still can’t wrap my mind around.  Her goodness was effortless.

My T

I am literally so sad right now that I don’t think I am having a normal reaction to the reminders of mortality which have clouded me for the past month.  I am in shock–  too sad to be sad.  And writing is one of the few ways I am able to articulate what has happened to me, and how I feel about it.  So thank you for allowing me the forum to do so.

Despite it all– the confusion, the pain, the anger and the fatigue, I am making an effort to remember the good things about these two incredibly large forces who shaped me; the individuals who helped make me the person I am today, typing away, barely able to comprehend anything beyond the “click, click, click” of the keyboard.

In keeping with that effort, here’s a good memory: when I went away to college, T wrote me regularly, and continued to do so over my many years of new jobs and new cities.  I saved all of those letters, but for the past several years, I have kept one of them on my refrigerator, because I believe it contains some wonderful words of wisdom, which I read quite often.  I don’t know where they’re from, as it seems she did not write them herself, but was quoting them back to me; I’d like to share them now, in an excerpt from her letter, dated August 26th, 1996:

“Before I sign off I found more things all of us should know– they are as follows:

Don’t be afraid to fail or to achieve
Love and honor your mother (I like this one)

Maintain steadfastly your independence but not at the expense of intimacy
Be loyal but not blindly so
Pride is not a deadly sin
Improve your world at any and every level
Seek to regret nothing
Obey the Golden Rule
Find happiness and goodness in all things
Don’t be afraid to be hopeful and optimistic
Consider the wisdom of the serenity of prayer
Embrace the moment
Withhold judgement as long as possible and then render it with the greatest care”

Nice, right?

I will get back to posting recipes eventually– you’ll get your homemade basil pesto soon.  I know this for certain, I have to keep cooking.  For T and for me.  Because as I said during my father’s eulogy, in the words of Scottish poet Thomas Campbell, “To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.”

If you would like to make a donation in memory of my father, Dave Roberts, please visit The First Tee of Denver website.
If you would like to make a donation in memory of my grandmother, Toni Capasso, please visit the Alzheimer’s Association St. Louis Chapter website.

6 Responses to “In Memoriam”

  1. Kristi September 11, 2013 at 5:40 PM #

    My heart aches for you and your family and the unimaginable losses you have and are experiencing. I imagine that your dad and grandmother can read these beautiful words from wherever they may be and can sense just how much you love them… keep writing for and to them and thank you for sharing them with the rest of us.

  2. annabanana210 September 11, 2013 at 5:49 PM #

    Know that I’m thinking of you in the days and months to come. It takes a strong fortuitous person to be able to document the journey. Love you always.

  3. Lee September 11, 2013 at 5:50 PM #

    You’re an amazing person, KRob 🙂
    …and it’s even more clear to me now that it’s because your family made you that way. We could all see that even way back then, nearly 15 years ago, when we met. Your family has been proud of you forever – and I believe they could not be more highly honored tonight than to know how truly proud you are of all of them. Keep writing, keep cooking, and know that you’re loved.

  4. Susan Mallon September 11, 2013 at 7:50 PM #

    Oh my dearest Katherine. It’s unimaginable to me how much you have been going through these past days. Thank you so much for sharing your beautiful words about your love for your father and grandmother. I’m so happy that you had two such wonderful people in your life, and so incredibly sad that you have lost them both in such a short span of time. My thoughts are with you always, and my heart goes out to you and all of your family in your grief. I love you and only hope that the love of all your family and friends will help carry you through these sad times.

  5. Adele Hayes September 12, 2013 at 4:43 AM #

    Beautiful, Katie. Your dad and your grandmother would be most proud!
    You and your wonderful family have our deepest sympathy.
    Adele and Mark

  6. Sooter September 12, 2013 at 5:17 AM #

    My uncle wasn’t speaking much a few days before he died, but he told me: “We’ll be together a long time – just in different places.” They are still with you every day. Sending you strength and much love. Your writing is so eloquent and from the heart. The line that stopped me in my tracks was “I went from ‘I had to live with my Dad for 5 months at 35’ to ‘I got to live with my Dad for 5 months at 35.” Keep writing. xoxo

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