Kathryn Fox

We are complexity. Our lives are many things, a web of feelings and beliefs. Clarity and contradiction. It is all part of the fabric we weave for ourselves. At any point in our life, we are a sum of these things so far—these threads of self. 

What we weave will change tone and color over time, but it is always us. It has parts we’re proud of, parts we hate, and certainly parts we wish we used different threads. But it is us none the same. When we die, no matter when that is, hopefully, we look at what we threaded together and feel good about our creation.  

Kathy was many things. Her fabric had many colors, so many patterns and motifs. Her heart was drawn to diverse paths. Something caught her inspiration and she jumped right in, deep end always. She was a fighter. A friend. An advocate. A partner. A mom. 

A roiling river. At times fearless, at times frustrating. A powerful force that sometimes smoothed rough rocks and sometimes cracked them in two. A calming river that might lull you to sleep, and a churning river that might tumble you downstream. There were parts of her blocked up, places where she struggled to share and express. And other parts where her creativity and spark ran strong and free, where the words would flow for hours. 

Through it all, she was always curious. Always listening. Not necessarily to what was spoken, but to what was felt. To the meaning. To what was meaningful to someone. Her wheels would start to spin -  thinking of just the right remedy, just the right tool to soothe your concern. “Don’t worry”, she might say, “I know just the person who might help.” 

What she proposed would likely be unconventional. But if you could set your mind in the right way, then all things could be possible. There are many ways to heal, it just helps to have an open mind. Most of her adventure with cancer, and staying well, was along a path distinctly her own. Oncologists kicked her out of their offices. She was the crazy lady who wouldn’t do chemo.  But for quite a time she showed what was possible, outside the normal course of treatments. For the clinicians who stayed, they found they learned things at every checkup.  

Kathy squeaked the wheel. Asked hard questions. Pushed people’s comfort. As an educator, she constantly challenged the system to do better. To support those with learning issues, or those who struggle to fit in. Take the time to understand how they learn, instead of forcing them into a box. She was persistent.

As a home health aide, she fought for that warm blanket, that special skin lotion to ease dry skin or a pesky wound. She cooked your favorite food or encouraged a healthy alternative to boost immunity. She was honest in her opinions, and let you know what she thought was best. Let’s only stay an hour at that birthday party, you get tired more easily these days. 

She did not miss the irony of this. Realizing she was now in the position her clients were in. Less is more became the mantra. You might want to do 5 things today, but your energy can do 2. What’s the most important thing you need to do? It was a lesson she wanted to apply to the next person she cared for. “I now see how hard it is. How much patience you need to have with someone who is sick.” But she knew that lesson learned would have to wait for the next life. 

She often looked for ways to help.  

Recently she spent 4 days in the hospital. As she fought off an infection related to her cancer, she spent hours being concerned. Not about her situation, but about how her roommate was doing. What was she going to do after leaving the hospital? Where was she going to go? Who was advocating for her? Why did she always underreport how much she was eating? Why don’t they let her take a shower? I might be depressed too!

Kathy wasn't completely sure what the doctor had said to her about her own situation, but she knew her roommate’s BP was 102/60 and she had a CT scan scheduled for 3 pm. The day Kathy was discharged she worried about not having the roommate's number. How could she check and see if she was doing ok? She needed support! 

She’d likely remember where you went on vacation 6 months ago, even if she only met you once. She might share a recipe with a stranger, or a laugh with a clerk who looked tired and worn from the day. She tried to find a thread in that person to celebrate, to call out as wonderful. To show she had seen you in some way. She brightened a lot of days, even if she never saw you again. 

She wanted to be of service. To be someone to rely on. She worried for people alone, without support or someone to speak up for them. Almost every day these last months she would say, “Imagine doing this all alone? Sitting in an ER for hours? Navigating a system sometimes indifferent to your struggles, to your fears of what happens next. I can’t imagine”

During one of her 5 recent ER visits - in great discomfort and exhaustion - she still managed to cheer on a young woman next to us having severe stomach pains, bent over holding back vomit and moaning.“It will be ok” She said softly to her. “Don’t worry. It’ll be ok. You can get through this!”. 

Growing up she often needed such a champion, but didn’t always have one. She described feeling exposed to the hard edges of the world. Where was my protection? Where was my support? She was surrounded by profound change as a child, and the adults around her were not much help. They could barely manage that change themselves, let alone manage how it might impact her. 

Perhaps that drove her to step into hard places with you if you asked her. To hold your hand, or make a special tincture to help heal that ailment you couldn’t seem to shake. To drive hours to cheer you on, or bring you daisies because you said that time you loved them. Even if you were not getting along, if you said you needed help she would be there - right as rain. 

Kathy loved adventure. Her step might quicken to see what lay over that next hill, what sight of wonder there was to relish. She loved to soak a place in. To see the colors. To taste the food. So much to explore! In her life, she traveled to many places. Always a story to tell of some far away location. And if it was your story being shared, you can bet she was adding it to her bucket list so that next time she could commiserate with you better. 

She knew we were better for that experience. Meeting new people, learning new cultures. It could help us to understand ourselves a little better, and maybe have appreciation for the paths others have walked. Her expired passports have stamps from all over, and she carried those adventures deep in her heart always. 

Kathy was a lifelong member of the Positive Thinking Club. Telling her something was not possible was like telling Wonder Woman that the group of children over there didn’t need saving. Her jaw would tighten, eyes would narrow and she’d roll up her sleeves. It was not a failure until she deemed it so. Watch out all, you might be in the way.

It is why perhaps the stories we hear about her, over and over, were about the impact Kathy made on someone’s life. The help she provided in a dark and challenging time. The way she arrived and saved the day with her insights and tenacity. She made a difference, and was a friend for life.  

That’s not to say she didn’t ruffle feathers, or drive you crazy when you loaded the dishwasher incorrectly. Correct Google Maps when it clearly did NOT know the way or ask you repeatedly why you were listening to it. Sometimes that passion of opinion could become frustration of stubbornness. But if she hurt your feelings, an apology would soon follow. 

She had many friends who, on paper, were very different than her. But they found a thread of commonality and that kept them together. She tried her best to work through things, even though she had pieces unresolved. 

As she realized that her days might be shorter than longer, she worried about her choices. Did I do enough? Was I too hard on people? Should I have fought harder? We all look at the fabric of our lives and question things. Wish we used less of that color and more of another. Had more of that pattern and less of those swirls. It is natural. The shoulds and the what ifs. 

In the end, we are never perfection, because perfection is an illusion. The world is flawed, which is why it is perfect. It is what we get right that matters in the end. That extra way we offer kindness to others, the way we see the suffering before us. How we step into chaos with those we meet. We can hope that our tapestry has many of those moments woven into it. 

One might think that given Kathy’s strong nature that her last moments were a battle. Fighting to the end. But there was a point where she knew the fight would bring only discord and disruption. She let herself release that fight, not in defeat but in the knowing that she would need that energy for the new journey ahead. We need all our heart for those unknown next steps. 

You could see that she was far away. Her body still here, but her spirit standing at a threshold where many of the dear people in her life were. Her mother. Her grandparents. Her brothers. Her friends. Many faces she had not seen in too long. 

In that state, her breathing began to have a vocalized quality. She would breathe in and kind of intone a sound as she breathed out. Same pitch over and over, like she was talking to someone. Then every so often the pitch would go higher, as if saying hello to a new person in spirit she was seeing again. This went on for hours. 

As the Ents in Lord of the Rings would say, “We do not say anything…unless it is worth taking a long time to say it.”

Slowly this vocalization faded away and it was just that breath. Slow and steady. Each breath more shallow, until there was no breath at all. A good lesson in how to exit this world. No furrowed brow. No thread of anger. Just stillness. Just peace. A smile.

May we all strive for that, letting go of truly what we do not need to hold anymore. Holding instead the love and beauty all around us. The kindness and compassion. They will always serve us better on this road we walk. We will miss Kathy, and we are inspired by her. May we use that wisdom to honor her. 

Kathy is survived by her daughter Kate, son Tom, and stepson Chris, as well as her husband Jim. She also leaves her eldest brother Jeff, youngest brother Carlyle, step-sister Lisa, and nieces Emily and Olivia.

Instead of flowers, the family encourages you to donate to the following groups she championed. There are links here and elsewhere on this page:

Verde Valley School - https://www.vvsaz.org/support-vvs/how-to-give

Planned Parenthood of New England - SEE BUTTON BELOW

Ben Bronze Academy - SEE BUTTON BELOW