Kaye

Have you ever known you needed to say something? Or just felt like you needed to share something with someone or a group of people?

I’m into communication. This is something that happens to me often. Today, it happened to me at a time when I really didn’t want it to. It happened during the “sharing time” at a memorial service.

Kaye Roach was one of my mom’s friends when I was growing up (not that they stopped being friends – but they were much closer when I was younger). She was like another mom or another grandma. I’m not sure which. She was older than my mom, so in my young mind, she was like another grandma. In hindsight, she was more like another mother. But she was also a friend. Honestly, first and foremost, she was a friend. She was like a mentor friend.

Kaye would spend time with me and when you’re ten or eleven years old, that’s a big thing. It’s huge. There really aren’t many words for what it’s like to have an “older” person take you under their wing and make you feel like the center of their world (when you’re with them). Kaye did this for me – but on a level very different than almost anyone ever has. For years, every Wednesday, I would go to her house to “hang out” and then she would take me to gymnastics. Most often, we would make cookies. I have tons of memories with her. And not only when I was alone with her.

One of the most impressive things about Kaye that I remember is that she loved everyone. There was not one person she didn’t love. One Wednesday, I even asked, “How do you love my brother?!” (I didn’t really like him much at the time…) She laughed. She didn’t scold me or tell me I was a bad sister. She just told me she did. And as I’ve gotten older and further and further away from my days of sibling rivalry, it has become so clear that she just had a heart of love. She couldn’t help it. She loved everyone.

At the memorial service tonight, I heard over and over how much she loved everyone and how there wasn’t a single person she could come in contact with that she didn’t love.

One story in particular stood out. There was a couple she worked with who called her Mom because they could confide in her about anything. That doesn’t seem all that impressive from the outside. But this service was held in an Evangelical Christian Church. What made this story powerful is that this couple was a pair of homosexual men – which, of course, is taboo in most churches. She would tell them she loved them, and she really did. So, though that may not be that amazing to you or me, it was impressive because it was “against” her beliefs, but she didn’t let that stand in the way of love.

As the sharing went on, Kaye’s legacy and who she was became very inspiring and impressive. Over and over, people stood up and said, “Kaye did this for my kids,” “Kaye love my children,” “Kaye was like another mother to my daughter and my son,” etc. But not one child got up (not that most of those who were discussed are “children” anymore). My heart started pounding like I was lying or I was being dishonest. It was pounding so hard, I could see it when I looked down at my black dress. Finally, during a lull in the sharing, I stood up. I knew I needed to say something and I knew that though some of the sharing was comical (Kaye was hilarious), it was all very serious and somber. I knew someone who was one of those “children” needed to share how Kaye had impact in their lives.

After introducing myself (which was apparently a great idea because I heard “OOoohhh…” from several audience members who hadn’t recognized me), I just let loose.

“I used to spend as much time with Kaye as I possibly could. It was mostly when I was a little person. I would go to her house every week to make cookies or bake something else and then she would take me to gymnastics. Whenever I was there, I knew I was the only person in her world. I was the only person she was with. I would ask questions and tell stories and she would tell stories. [[I told them about asking how she could love my brother]] And she was so fun. She was hilarious. I remember one time, we were talking and somehow Mr. Roach came up. I’ve always called him Mr. Roach, even wrote that on a card for him today. But she looks at me and says, ‘You know his first name is Harry, right?’ I didn’t really know where she was going with this, but I said, ‘Yeah…’ She looks right at me and says, ‘He’s a Harry Roach!’ I remember laughing soooo hard. I kept laughing. And it’s a good thing she pointed that out because I still tell people I know a guy named Harry Roach.”

My “testimony” sounds lame and surfacy to me. I was a little ashamed at myself when I sat down because people were laughing the entire time. It almost seemed inappropriate.

But then I remembered what I had told my friend Schuyler while we were sitting and waiting for the actual service to start. He asked, “Don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate how happy everyone is right now and how everyone’s so glad to see each other?” (Backstory: the church we were in has had sever “splits” or “factions” in which large groups of people left the congregation and some stopped speaking to each other).

“Nah. Kaye would love this! She was so fun, you know that. Plus, think about it, tons of the people here don’t come to church here anymore and some of them haven’t even spoken to each other in years. Some of the people here have probably told some of the other people here they never want to see them together. She’s excited that all these people are here and that she brought them together. She wants us to have fun tonight.”

And it’s true. Kaye would have wanted exactly that.