The Best of Us

Imagine the kindest person you know. Somone who goes out of her way for people to let them know they are important. Someone who gives you the shirt off her back because she feels you need it more. Someone who gives even when she has nothing to give. This was Kathy.

I grew up in a modest home with my sisters Kathy and Jean in the Flatbush and Flatlands section of Old Mill Basin in Brooklyn. We grew up poor but never knew it because we had parents who worked hard to make us feel special. We celebrated family and friends at every opportunity, and we were rich because of the people in our lives.

Years after we left Brooklyn, my parents volunteered to help others and showed us the importance of being there for others in need. “If you can help someone,” my father would say, “do it and you will never regret it.” And we watched my parents grow old positively impacting the lives of others.

Years later, after my dad had passed, my mom developed lung cancer. Kathy moved her family two hours south to care for our mother. She put her life on hold to be a caregiver, stepping into the role so naturally. She put herself into debt helping mom, because she felt that helping mom was more important and the right thing to do. And when mom left us, Kathy and her husband Jack purchased a small, run-down, turn of the century farmhouse not far from where my parents had lived. They renovated the old home to make it safe, but they also made it beautiful by restoring its natural wood and character. In this home, they helped their children navigate high school and college and celebrated life at every opportunity.

Two years ago, Kathy was diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. She was in her fifties and a non-smoker. We were devastated by the prognosis, but Kathy was undeterred. “I will beat this,” she declared. “I have too much to do and so much to live for.”

Kathy was approved for a specialized treatment to target her cancer, and my wife, Tara, a veterinarian, reduced her work hours so she could drive across the state multiple times each week and take Kathy to every doctor’s appointment and treatment. As Jack was on the road each week and neither of Kathy’s daughters could drive, Tara helped in any way she could to assist Kathy because that’s what Kathy would have done for her.

Over time, the targeted treatment didn’t work, and Kathy developed complications. The treatment affected her spine and mobility. And, in a rare occurrence, the cancer treatment took away Kathy’s ability to walk. She could not get herself in and out of bed or to the bathroom. She could not get in and out of a car. Jack built a ramp leading to their home and created a room with a hospital bed for Kathy. Kathy’s older daughter Brooke and Tara worked together to lift Kathy from bed to chair and chair to car. Sometimes 4-5 times a day. They did whatever was necessary.

The cancer was aggressive, and Kathy had many rounds of chemo, which introduced other challenges. With escalating blood counts, Anemia, breathing tubes, infections, bloating, appetite loss and so many other hurdles, Kathy faced it all with a smile and said, “I don’t care what the doctor’s say, I will beat this.” She found humor in the darkest moments, and she made new friends over time with assigned roommates and sometimes their families.

I visited Kathy many times in the past two years. It was usually in a hospital and often in a rehab facility. Regardless of the location or the pain she was in, Kathy always had a smile. She had every right to complain but never did. She never asked, “Why me?” Kathy was grateful for the company and only talked about things we would do again. She loved the beach and gardening and dreamed of living life outside of the hospital walls.

Though I had suggested it a few times, Kathy eventually agreed to allow me to run a GoFundMe charity drive to help pay for the cost of a wheelchair accessible van. In just a couple of weeks, our family and friends raised more than $17,000, and Jack purchased the van with the hope that Kathy could get back and forth to treatments and appointments, and once again travel when she was well enough.

In the past few months, declining health sidelined chemo treatments. Kathy had a dozen more trips to hospitals and rehabs. A week ago, Kathy didn’t return my call or text, and so Tara drove across the state to check on her. There was a dramatic change in her appearance. Kathy seemed exhausted. It was as if her body had given out. Tara called Jack and asked him to come home. Within a couple of days, the specialists said there was really nothing more they could do for her. Kathy’s heart gave out. She was revived but never regained consciousness.

Tara and I were with Jack and their children for Kathy’s last day. We held her hand, told stories and said goodbyes in our own way. We celebrated her life as she passed quietly. She fought for as long as she could to stay with us, and she never acknowledged defeat. She was a warrior and showed us every day that life is worth the fight.

Looking back on Kathy’s life and the hundreds of people she impacted positively along the way; I can’t help but feel that she was the best of us. She was everything that we should be… and she took every opportunity to remind us to be kind and appreciate the people in our lives.