Kay Townley
Katharine Rash Townley, 76, died peacefully at her son Daniel’s home on Tuesday afternoon. She was born on September 13, 1931 in Middlesboro, Kentucky. Kay lived and worked around the world with the Institute of Cultural Affairs, spending the last 15 years in Denver. She is survived by her sons, Daniel Slattery, of Denver, Stephen Slattery, of Charlotte, NC, and their families, and her sister, Mary Warren Moffett, of Nantucket, MA.
Son Daniel Slattery –
In the words of the song, this moment has been a long time coming, and it’s going to be a long time gone. There’s been a weight to bear through these last two years, the weight of knowing that the horizon had a limit, that the little exchanges with Mom/Grandma Kay/Kay were numbered. How stark the contrast between that and the lightness she lived with and shared with us throughout her life. Mom had a way of being so completely herself while at the same time weaving around the obstacles in her path, like water gliding by a rock. She on many occasions slipped past things I would say, with which she might not agree, with an enthusiastic, “Sure, Danny” or “That would be one approach.”
I want to try today to mention a few impressions of my mother, though I am conscious that many of you knew aspects of her that I did not and that the complete picture of her has many hues that I can only guess at. I found myself surprised over the last six months by thoughts and observations she shared with her friends who so generously gave of themselves to care for her. One of her gifts was the way she could listen to people for who they were. And her friends as a result each had a unique perspective of her.
Last weekend, she told me and Parry of a time when after learning of her third breast cancer, she went to Washington Park to sit, and as she put it, to feel sorry for herself. While there, after demanding of the heavens that “He show his face”, she noticed an inscription on the bench. She was struck by it, as it came from one of her favorite songs; and she wrote the verse in the quotes journal she kept right up to the end. “I see skies of blue and clouds of white, the bright blessed day, the dark sacred night, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world…”
To her this was a wonderful world, and we know that she appreciated and created wonder in the world on a regular basis. She could create occasions, something she frequently did at our house around Christmas, Valentine’s Day and birthdays when with Parry or kids, she would transform rooms from their day to day stateof barely controlled chaos into colorful shadowboxes of holiday life. To use the word she used, she was bringing “eventfulness” to life. It seemed to take so little of her to sense and instill eventfulness into the everyday — that is one of the lessons she had for me. She has elevated the moment for lots of us daily.
Living in her two-room upstairs place, which I often observed was one room too many for her, she continued the sort of intentional, monastic life to which she was introduced by the Ecumenical Institute/ Institute of Cultural Affairs. People from that group are her and will understand when I say that as a youth, the life of the Order and her commitment to make the world a better place did not entirely work for me and Steve. In time we came to appreciate the high calling of that work, and the postcards from India, England, Belgium, Australia and Africa. Where she might be in the world or in her life, she always took care of us and helped us through passages, like weddings about which we had not a clue. And despite her nomadic life, she managed to keep a big trunk of family treasures which she would dole out to us over the years. Like pulling a rabbit out of a hat, she would come up with family heirlooms, rings, photographs, and other keepsakes from her travels around the world.
I am beginning to see now the tremendous arc of her life, through her Kentucky childhood, through her school years, and then our early family years (a period she looked back on as her “Suburban Madonna” era). In the late sixties she began the ICA’s work of social change, pursuing that for 25 years until she came to Denver to become among other things, the ultimate grandmother to Luke and Meg, and Jake and Shelley.
On many a New Year’s Day, she would lead us in a “Star” conversation, remembering events from the prior year and grouping them in categories and then naming our years. We owe it to Mom and ourselves to continue that kind of reflection on our lives, if only once a year. We will miss her consciousness, her treats, her distinctive whistle when arriving or looking for us, her ability to fluff things up so nicely, her piano playing and singing, her steadfast belief in her mantra — “coziness is key”. She loved nothing more than weather that required her to stay inside and be cozy.
She was so blessed and appreciative of her many friends – friends from the ICA, from church, neighbors, book group, bridge players, our friends, kids’ friends. A cross-section of those people became a cadre that she named “Kay’s Care Bears”, who spent time and did anything for her these last months. What you did for her, and for us, we can never repay. I am sure that in no small part because of you, her final weeks went as well as she could have wanted – comfortable in her little upstairs pad, and then in the room we created together with you at our home. You will not be surprised to hear that there was still some tinkering she wanted to do to the room. From my family and Steve’s and Mary Warren’s, thank you each for being what Mom would call a “perfect person”.
She died peacefully Tuesday. I will go ahead and admit to not knowing where she may be right now. But I want to close with a note that tells me something, a quote on the first page of her quotes journal: “Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”
Good bye Mom and thank you. We love you and will cry and laugh for you, and then we will carry on and carry you with us.
Son Stephen Slattery –
I was wondering who Mom would see first in Heaven.
Mom has found her Mother and Father and most of her friends who she loved here on Earth. She has a small little space where she can spend eternity. She has heavenly angels to help her make the space perfect. She tells them about all of the human angels who helped her be comfortable through her last days here.
She has told her Mother and Father how fortunate she was to have been able to watch her oldest son’s family grow up and how much a part of that family she was.
In heaven she misses her sister, Mary Warren, but I think she probably expected that to be the case. She has found a perfectly tuned piano she wants to surprise her with.
And now she understands how God perfectly planned for her to live as she did. He has reviewed it all with her. He stopped by her space, which she has already decorated in colorful meaningful detail. They sat together in her beautiful garden. She was leaning against Him, while his words comforted her. He has left with her a tabbed binder which is neatly organized. The cover has a cat on it. The tabs are places she has lived. Within the tabs are stories of her relationships. God was very pleased with her relationships.
Mom needs to lie down to read her life’s story which has been penned by God. She does not need to hurry; but when she is ready, she has an appointment for a heavenly pedicure. She will want to tidy up her space before she goes. She has already met new new neighbors and loves them. She will be sure to invite them to tea soon.
It was like heaven for me to spend time with Mom. By no means was she a traditional mother, but she allowed me my faults and trumpeted my strengths. I would phone her on a regular basis. She made me feel like I had must made her day when she heard my voice.
Even as she grew more ill, her first concern was for me and my family. “But enough about me,” she would say. “I want to hear news about the Carolina Slatterys.” All of that news was important to her. She was someone who really knew what was going on with people. She did not share secrets, but pretty much knew what was going on with all of our lives.
Because she took the time to learn about our lives, she could love us. And her love came with no strings attached. It was there for you in a beautiful package with pretty ribbons, effulgent color, and that unique kind of honest grace.
I do not want this to end; and I thought it never would. My heart is with all of you here and for all of those fortunate to feel her love. Our worlds are different now.
Now we know how we need to care for each other; and we know that our relationships tell our stories.
Mom, my news is that we love you and miss you.
