Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Said goodbye to my friend Kitsy yesterday. Pretty much choked and snuffled it out, but it was definitely a goodbye. She, in her sunny Irish way, responded with a beautiful, fully-present-in-the-moment, eloquent toast to days past and days future. People and places and things and times change, they come and go, but this this one I will miss. I will miss Kitsy. Here's some of the things I will always remember:

Kitsy organizing her employees to each throw in 2 hours of vacation for their co-worker, who already exhausted her paid sick and vacation time in care of her cancer-ridden partner.

Kitsy knowing the words to any Beatles' song ever written.

Kitsy with love beyond love, compassion for ever, for her former abusive boss, who ended up homeless.

Kitsy in deep abiding pride at her childrens' college degrees.

Kitsy driving her housekeepers around to Social Security, garage sales, anywhere they needed to be, so they didn't have to walk or take the bus.

Kitsy working the night shift so she could personally greet the guests when they came in.

Kitsy and her swear jar. It was always full to the brim.

Kitsy with handsful of thank you notes from children of guests.

Kitsy and the Christmas parties she used to throw for her employees; she'd call me up to scam free stuff for them.

Kitsy treating the people in my office with honor and respect and being universally loved and acclaimed here.

Kitsy and hard times; she never once gave into despair.

Kitsy when she got to go to Ireland with her family.

for Mary Kristine
Give us, Lord, a bit o sun,
A bit o work and a bit o fun,
Give us in all the struggle and sputter,
Our daily bread and a bit o butter.
Give us health our keep to make
And a bit to spare for other's sake.
Give us, too, a bit of song
And a tale and a book to help us along.
Give us, Lord, a chance to be
Our goodly best, brave, wise and free,
Our goodly best for ourselves and others
Till all men learn to live as brothers.
--Old Irish Prayer
I'll remember you; you remember me.
The 'Kan EWA


the psycho therapist said...

What a lovely tribute.

I really enjoyed the Irish poem/prayer.

She's been a gift like so many of us are to each other.


green libertarian said...

Sounds like a great person, really great.

I know all those old Irish prayers, as I used to be IBM, "Irish By Marriage", married to an FBI, Full Blooded Irish. Even met some IRA types back in the day...

What I don't know is PT's Morse Code.

treespotter said...

yes, sound like a great person. all irish i met are great, i might even be irish in earlier life. only i can't do the tongue twist.

Debbie said...

My first very fond memory of Kitsy....she was my DOS for the NW property. We went on a sales trip together to Seattle. We got stuck in the stairwell on the 27th floor of some building we were in. Note---we had to use the stairwell because every time she got into the elevator she would get shocked. When we realized that we were stuck, she rambled on (yes, all 27 floors) about how this is such a great story for the grandkids and how we'll never forget it, etc. Keep in mind that we had all of our sales kits with us that felt like 500 pounds. I don't think I said a word other than---you won't have any grand children because you won't make it out of the stairwell. From that day on, an incredible friendship was born.

Kitsy has always teased me on my ability to shut my emotions down (it really is a great defense mechanism). Her ravings about me not having any feelings has been a long standing joke between us. Believe me, it was absolutely impossible to shut anything down over the last week. I think I cried more over the last 5 days than I have since my divorce. Words cannot express the affect this has had on me. Kitsy and I not only have personal memories but we have literally hundreds of "company" memories. Company trips will never be the same and I'm sure I will cry then too.

On sales trips together we always had the agreement: I would do the bars, she would do the funeral homes. Walking into the sale of the hotel, it felt identical to the feeling I get when walking into a funeral home. I didn't want to be there and I didn't want it to happen. I wanted Kitsy to say...no worries, I'll do this one like she did on all of those sales calls.

the psycho therapist said...

Heeeeeeeeyyyy...my Tree was here. You're movin' up, darlin'.