I have mentioned before that I don’t have any sisters. I grew up with four brothers. I have given great care and attention to relationships with my female cousins and friends over the years because of this. When you’re surrounded by that much testosterone all the time, you need fellow estrogen to keep you grounded. 

Because of having only brothers, I have always been close to my Mom too. I have watched since I was a young person how my Mom kept close to her own sisters and her own close knit group of friends. I can remember her saying to us, “You don’t need a giant group of friends in life. A few close friends is all you need.”

One of my Mom’s best friends was named Kathy. 

My brothers and I don’t know life without Kathy. Kathy was there for every baptism, birthday, sacrament, graduation party, wedding, many holidays. She is my younger brother’s Godmother. And, in recent years, she became the same constant presence in the lives of our children. 

Kathy was a constant in my Mom’s life from the moment they met in nursing school. They were friends for 50 years.

Kathy was a dedicated Aunt in her own family. We had many playdates with her nieces growing up. Trips to the zoo or fun at the beach. She connected people across her life. 

She was the kind of person who didn’t hold judgment too. She had friends from all walks of life and was there the instant anyone needed her.

As a child, I often looked forward to Kathy’s visits because she brought the BEST candy. She would come with boxes of candy. I remember ring pops were a staple. She often gave thoughtful, cool gifts for celebrations too. And she always took photos.  A lot of our family photos we have of us growing up were taken by Kathy. Kathy not only held a special place in our memories, but she helped us preserve them.

As a little girl, I would watch my Mom and Kathy, the way they would reminisce and laugh. The laughter was so contagious. The stories were ridiculous and went over my head at the time, but I laughed anyway. Rehearing them as an adult made me laugh even harder. They were crazy together! But, the good fun kind of crazy. As a child, you know your Mom as a Mom, so it was so fun to hear a different side of her from her bestie. The more stories I heard, the more I saw similarities between my Mom and me. The silly sagas not only served as a reason for laughter, but helped me better understand her and who she is outside of being my Mom.

Kathy knew a lot of my friends because she was always present for important occasions. Whenever Kathy met one for the first time, my Mom would say something insane like, “This is my dear friend, Kathy. She is a criminal and spent many years in jail.” Kathy would laugh, “You are insane. Why do you tell people these things?!” Every friend of mine she met, my Mom had some crazy intro prepared and Kathy would have a clever retort. The joke never got old.

To see my Mom connect with someone who she met from school made me realize I could find bonds like that as I grew up. My Mom and Kathy were such a fine example of what friendship is and how it should be treasured and cared for. Watching their friendship at impressionable ages made me realize being the only girl wasn’t so bad because I knew I could find sisters in friends.

When I became an adult, I considered Kathy my friend too and felt comfortable to join in on the jokes she and my Mom would tell. She would call my Mom and if I answered, I’d say to her, “Who is this? I told you never to call here.” She would laugh and she would say, “Oh, God, you are just like your Mother!” My Dad would often tease her too. There was always laughter and banter between them all when Kathy was around.

The last time I spoke with Kathy was on speaker phone in my Mom’s car. I participated in many a conversation in my Mom’s car on speaker phone with Kathy. And so did a lot of the grandkids. My oldest nephew, who is now 15, told my Mom he can remember many times when he was little being in her car and Kathy would call. My Mom would say, “Everyone, say hi to Kathy!” In unison they would say, “Hi, Kathy!”

A few times when I was at my Mom’s house with my kids, we would walk in and Kathy was on the phone. My Mom would say, “Kate just got here with the kids. Everyone say hi to Kathy!” Lucy and Zachary would chime in, but Peter would say no. Kathy would laugh, “That boy does not like me.” “He doesn’t like anyone but his Mother,” my Mom would laugh.

The day she passed, I told the kids that Mom-Mom’s friend Kathy went to heaven. Lucy said she would say a quiet prayer for her. Zachary said that it was sad. And true to form, Peter responded, “Kathy? Oh, I don’t like her.” I cried with laughter. I know Kathy would have bene hysterical if I told her that.

The last time I spoke with Kathy was on speaker phone in my Mom’s car. My Mom had picked me up to take me to an ultrasound appointment for the new baby. Kathy called my Mom, like she did every day, and we chatted and laughed. 

“Does that baby have a smile on its face yet?” Kathy asked.

“I haven’t had the scan yet. We are on our way!” I exclaimed. “I’ll send you a picture!!”

Kathy passed away a week later. I never sent a picture like I said I would. I got caught up and forgot. We always assume there will be more time to do things like that. More time to catch up and share. It’s a reminder that time is fleeting.

Kathy’s health had been deteriorating in recent months and I saw how it affected my Mom. It was hard on her to see her best friend in such a way. But she never gave up on her. And Kathy never gave up on my Mom. They spoke daily on the phone and my Mom made efforts to visit with her. 

The day Kathy was dying in the hospital my Mom went. She spent the afternoon there and was in the room when she passed.

She called me on her way home from the hospital. It was late, nearly 10pm. Her voice shook. It was one of the moments in life when your parent is vulnerable with you and makes you feel like a fellow adult. She told me how the room was full of family and friends. Kathy left this world in a room full of love, love that she cultivated over her 68 years of life.

After the kids went to bed, I went to Mom and Dad’s house to wait for her. She had told me she would be home soon and I wanted to be there for her, just as she is always there for me. When she walked in, she looked like a lost teenager. I hugged her and she cried to my Dad and me.

As I sat there in the rocking chair in their living room, my Dad across the room on one sofa and my Mom to my right on the other sofa, we let her speak her heart. I’ve realized that’s all you can do sometimes for someone who has experienced a great loss. They just want to be heard, so all you need to do is listen.

She told us of the room filled with Kathy’s family and friends and how she truly believed Kathy knew they were all there. She wasn’t conscious, but she said she felt that Kathy heard them all. I’m sure she did too. 

She began spouting off random funny memories and stories that I had heard before and loved. She laughed through her tears. She let herself feel it all. Such a good life lesson, to feel it all and to appreciate what was in order to begin accept what is. 

“You need to go home,” my Mom said. “You need to rest.” 

“I’m okay,” I said. “I needed to be here for you.”

As I rocked in the chair, I held my pregnant belly, a new life grew inside me as I sat and reminisced of a life newly passed. It makes me sad that my new baby will be the first grandchild of my Mom’s that won’t know Kathy Annan. But I’ll be sure, with the help of my Mom, to continue sharing the stories and keep Kathy’s memory alive. 

My family has lost two major forces in our lives in the last eight months, my Aunt Debra and Kathy Annan. I became pregnant about a month after Debra passed. I can remember coming back from the funeral with a new perspective. If we wanted another, why wait? Life marches on and we need to do what our hearts want before it is too late.

When Kathy passed I was seven months pregnant. To experience big losses whilst growing a new life is sad and humbling, and yet beautiful. It’s bittersweet because, as I said, this new child will never know these wonderful women. It’s my responsibility to make sure this new one knows who has gone before them and who played a role in influencing me and guiding me to become who I am. But beautiful in that life goes on. And that’s what these two women would want from us all, to go on. I know I am repeating myself when I say in death you can find so much life.

When I began writing more and blogging, Kathy read everything and she made sure to tell me her thoughts and encouraged me to keep it up. And I knew she meant it because Kathy could be very matter of fact. She was always honest with me. I don’t know if she knew how much that meant to me. I’m not sure I ever told her. I hope she would be touched by this post.

Thank you, Kathy, from all of us. I hope you are at rest now.