Kathryn Michelle

A year ago today, a bright light was extinguished. Her name: Kathryn Michelle Wunch. This beautiful, bright, compassionate young woman warmed the hearts of all she came in contact with. I should know. I am one of those people.

A year ago I wrote this in regards to her life and sudden death:

Memories...

Her hair, stick straight, down across her back as her eyes glitter a softened glassy blue while she bounces as she giggles. This image is engrained into my memory as a daily occurrence with Katie, her signature look if you will. But such beauty did not go without wit and intelligence as well.
Her sarcastic remarks and exaggerated impressions had all who were around her laughing hysterically along with her stagnant bouncing giggles. I vividly recall an impression of an annoyed Alex MacLean, she wrinkled her brow, scrunched up her nose, puffed out her cheeks, lowered her voice, and crossed her arms. No one could help but laugh, even Alex, fading his frustration away.
Such humor and lightheartedness are direct results of her awe-inspiring patience. Katie's natural ability to face a difficult or what may seem to some as annoying situation with a bold yet sweet smile only emphasized her virtue. She was on the path to make her dreams her reality, going after a masters in early childhood education with a minor in special education. Having such a noble desire to bring light to children who many would not go out of their way to help magnifies the incredible patience she possessed. I remember all the stories she would tell with the brightest of smiles on her face about her kids at Prince of Peace. Every fight between kids over the firetrucks, all of the macaroni art projects, the accidents where the children would be crying and she would comfort them with sweet words or a lullaby, distract them with that firetruck they wanted before, every single story, she said with a smile and a bouncing giggle.
And that giggle won the hearts of many. It was just a small glimpse of her blessed and amazing character. It was such a giggle that drew me to Katie. Nearly six years ago, Veritas had the first all-school skate night and with a group of middle and high school students you can only assume that we are going to try to do what we find most thrilling and dangerous on roller skates: crack-the-whip. And anyone who knows me is well aware of my clumsy and klutzy existence so the mix of the two were less than logical. One thing led to another and I found myself on the end being flung about like a rag doll until sweaty palms gave in and I appear to take off into the wall. As I'm laughing laying across the roller rink, this graceful glowing girl skates over giggling and asks in her sweet floating voice if I needed a hand. After clumsily getting me onto my feet we joined the line once again, this time I was safely tucked between Katie and Kasey. This was only the first of many times she gave me a hand. She helped me with school work, familial issues, boy advice, and life. I know for a fact that I am not the only one she lent a hand to. Every life she entered she gave a helping hand. Katie will continue to lend a hand to all who knew her by her phenomenal example and those lives who are touched by those who knew her and so on and so forth. The memory of Kathryn Michelle Wunch, of Katie, shines as brightly as she did in life. Goodbye my sweet girl, you will be in my heart until the last beat.

At her memorial, I walked up to the pastor, as all her friends and family sat in the church some crying, some stone-faced, and asked if I could read something. Looking surprised, he of course obliged me. I was able to read the whole thing up to the last sentence. I got choked up, but managed to gurgle out the last few words.

As the memorial let out, people came up to me, telling me things ranging from, "We're so sorry for your lost, but you are so strong to have done that, that was amazing," to, "You have some chutzpah, or like Seinfeld would say a pair of big matzos balls." At the time I was so withdrawn from the event to truly be able to process most of the event least of all those comments. A year later though, I have a deeper grasp of the littlest parts of the event, and of course still not of the mass information behind all of this.

Amazing? Me speaking, amazing? Nay. I breathed, created vibrations between my vocal chords, and sound came out. She was the amazing one, the strong one. She went out of her way to care for those close to her. She was the child magnet. She was the one who was finishing her degree in 2 1/2 years. She was the amazing one, the strong one.

She had so much to live for. She was going to be an early childhood educator. She was going to be a loving wife. She was going to be a doting mother of 6, or more. She was going to make this world a better place. She did make this world a better place. She brightened up my life along with the lives of hundreds if not thousands of others.

I love you, Tuki. Not a day goes by that you don't pass through my mind.

Just take a moment and think about what you do for this world, for those around you. Are you strong and amazing for them? Do you brighten the lives of those in your life? How can you make the best of each day for you and others?

Bigger, Better Things

So it's late on a Saturday night/Sunday morning, and I find myself having a very interesting conversation with a good friend on the second greatest fear amongst man: dying (which is only second to public speaking, go figure).

Last week, a mutual friend of ours had a death in the family. The death happened to be that of a child. My friend said, "It shouldn't be so though... Hashem (one name referring to G-d) had bigger and better plans for them somewhere else, no?" We often say this about anyone who we feel hasn't lived a "full" life, and from my experience, that is anyone who is under the age of 60, if not 70.

As for my experience, I have had someone die in my life every three years like clock work, but occasionally closer together. So far this year, I personally have known four people who have died, all of which fall into that "hasn't lived a full life" category. The youngest was 10 and the oldest was 46. Cause of death ranged from unknown to leukemia, but the reason behind the death doesn't make the pain that we feel any less.

One of my mentors told me right after the death of my best friend, "We mourn for the living, meaning the person we're grieving for is dead, what is mourning going to do for them?" As blunt and disheartening as that may sound, I feel it may be true. We mourn, sit shiva (Jewish mourning period and rituals associated with that), disassociate, a variety of different things, but those are all for us.

On a different note, why would Hashem pick certain people over others? Why the young? Why the innocent? My best friend was my age when she died for unknown reasons. She was majoring in early childhood development with a minor in special education. She was very active in her church and school, and easily could be described as a good, loving, compassionate, sweet, kind, honest, loyal (the list goes on) individual. What possibly could she have accomplished in her short nineteen years?

Oh, but she did so much. My question then becomes, if she had already done so much in nineteen short years, why not capitalize on that? Why not lengthen the time she would have had to do more?

So I suppose I strayed a bit from the questions I wanted to inquire about. Death: Can we ever have an understanding as to the when? the why? What are we meant to take away from death?

My response to the last question is the cliche term to live life as if there was no tomorrow, but to dream as if you would live forever. My friend then asked who actually does this? I responded nearly no one, but if it makes you in the least bit aware of what you are doing day in and day out and making those moments worth while, then it's worth it.

Thoughts?