Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!

For your many prayers, thoughts, and kind deeds. There are so many people that contributed to the successful implementation of my mother's final wishes. For that, all of us are grateful.

For the folks that are nearby, there seemed to be no end of tasks being completed. You brought food and drinks, hugs and warm thoughts. You spared your time to help with mundane tasks like yard work and shopping. Many of you joined us in celebration of Christine's life.

For those of you that could not physically be with us in St. Louis, you helped us by your caring phone calls, memories of times gone by, flowers, cards, and donations. Feel free to re-visit our blog if a story or memory returns. We love to hear the stories and words of wisdom that Christine so generously sprinkled around.

Eulogy

Written Very Kindly by Karen Petruska, Cousin to Christine M. Kelly Smith

If you look around you today, you will see the friends and family of Christine Kelly Smith wearing bright colors and striking outfits. From this you will learn that the Kelly women know how to dress. But you will also learn how Christine wanted us to think about her death. She wanted this service to be a celebration. A celebration of her life. Her love. And her legacy.

Celebrating the loss of someone as full of life as Christine is not easy. For those of us left behind, there’s just less laughter in the world. Christine wasn’t a silly comedian. Rather, she always called it like she saw it. I read several comments on the marvelous blog entitled “Celebrating Christine” that Bridget and Chris’ kids set up that mention Christine’s colorful language. But an even better way to describe her is that Chris always said what she thought. In meeting Christine, you met a truly genuine human being—a woman who was honest and straightforward and made no apologies for her thoughts or her wisdom.

And Christine had wisdom. Perhaps this is why she was so good with children. Chris started babysitting for the O’Sullivan family when she was only 15, though the O’Sullivans did not know she was so young. By the time the O’Sulilvan’s discovered how young Chris was chronologically, they had learned to value how smart she was emotionally. Many years later, Chris planned fun outings with the many children of her youngest siblings, and I’m talking about at least eight young children. Despite commanding this army of kids, Chris never had to yell and she never had to frown. Chris was firm—as Warren says, “you don’t mess with the big C”—but she conveyed her authority with a smile. She practiced what she preached, too, encouraging her own children to visit the peace chair any time they argued—her kids had to stare at each other until they resolved their dispute. Chris and Michael raised three kind and fun children—June, Elizabeth, and Warren are our constant reminders of Christine’s friendliness and her charisma.


Yet Christine did not limit her nurturing to children. Again and again, friends that visited Chris and her family at the hospice house commented that Chris helped them during their own trying times. Her family shared with me one story about how Chris wanted to help a friend that was stressed out with family troubles. Chris knew that her friend wanted to learn how to make jam, so she grabbed her sister Nina and she taught her friend how to make jam. But they didn’t just make some jam. They made a lot of jam. Cases of it. Of multiple flavors, peach and blueberry. They handed jam out as Christmas presents. But despite its yumminess, the jam was actually beside the point. What Christine gave her friend was her time and her compassion. And she helped her friend think about something else besides her troubles.

Chris relished life. She did not just vacation. She took her children on month-long retreats in Minnesota. She always found the time to visit St. Louis, packing her kids into the car and driving any distance to spend time with her St. Louis family. She drew people to her through her humor and her unforgettable laugh.

This laugh is how I choose to remember Christine. She made me laugh, sometimes until my sides hurt. As her daughter Elizabeth says, Chris was just a lotta fun. We will all miss her terribly, but I hope that today I am starting a tradition of how to remember Chris—as a caring, compassionate, and hilarious woman.

Perhaps that is why Chris wanted today to be a celebration. She wants all of us to stop for a moment and try to forget the ache. The hole that is deep in our chests, echoing with the loss of her. Because loss and sadness are not the emotions that anyone would ever associate with Christine. At the party to honor Christine today, share your own stories of your time with her. Keep her vitality inside you and let her strength reinforce your own. And when in doubt, do what Christine did—and laugh.