What
images are invoked by the name "Katie Bolka." Is it that eight
month old smiling infant who chuckled as she was spun ceaselessly
in the arms of her Mother as her Mother sang the "Boys of Summer"
to her at a family Christmas gathering in 1989. Or is it the
tyke who, pretending to be a fly, buzzed under my table at the
beach in the early 90's. Or is it that baby who when asked if
she was tired, replied "Actually Grandpa, I'm just a little
tired." Or is it that ever changing little girl who over the
years burgeoned into the beautiful, blue eyed enchantress that
she became at the age of 17. Or is it that deep, perceptive
and artistically obsessed person with whom I had endless conversations
about poetry, art, religion and the nature of the human condition.
Or is that affectionate young woman who, when I was dozing in
my chair, gently reminded me that she had turned down my bed
and had prepared for me a cup of tea.
For me,
the most striking image of all is my memory of the last time
that I was destined to see her. She came into my room at about
2AM and announced that she could not sleep and asked if I
would mind talking awhile. And talk we did until about 4AM
when she said "Grandpa, I'm a little sleepy, do you mind if
I go to bed." I said "Ok" Katie, we'll finish this conversation
another time.
We
never did. When I left to go back to New York after spending
a wonderful week in Texas during Thanksgiving week of 2005,
I could not imagine that I would never see her so alive again.
The next time I saw her she was in a deep coma after her tragic
accident but even then she looked like the Angel she was,
is and was destined to become. How can I adequately describe
the inexpressible and impenetrable sorrow that her loss has
brought to our family. A thousand years of mourning and a
million tears could not approximate the enormity of that loss.
For me, given the aspirations and interests we shared, I truly
believe I have lost a major share of my posterity. There is
and can be no adequate consolation for that grief. I can only
try to immerse that pain in my strong faith and belief that
I will see her again. At that time if God so wills, and I
reach the gates of paradise, I will surely find Katie waiting
at the door who will greet me with a big smile and say "Grandpa
can we talk awhile." And talk we shall for all eternity as
we rest in the arms of our Creator forever.
