If, after reading this memorial, you'd like to see the gallery of people and animals who were lucky enough to have Olivia in their lives, you can visit Olivia's family.
"Do not weep for me when I am gone
For I have friends in the great beyond.
All the little ones I used to feed
Will come to me in my time of need.
They will purr and bark in great delight,
And I will hold and hug them tight.
Oh what a great day that will be
When my furry friends all welcome me."
--Richard Severo
December 12, 2009, I learned that my friend Olivia had died. We had been friends since 1994 when I adopted my cat Jasper, my oldest feline friend and family member, from the Morris Animal Refuge in South Philadelphia.
After my big black cat LeRoy died, when I knew I needed to find companionship for my other cat, the grieving Nitz, I was enough of a sentimental sap to go back to the shelter from which I had gotten LeRoy 13 years before. After a lot of time and dithering, I settled on a lovely black kitten who seemed to like me too. At the desk, I asked where he was from and was advised he had been brought in by someone local... they thought... hold on...and they looked it up. My eye fell on the book and I memorized the address of the "donor" thinking someday I would stop by and say "Thank you, your black kitten is fine".
Jasper's adoption began as a closed one, but I was able to track down his history through that address I'd seen. It lead to the home of Olivia, a 60-something year old woman living alone in South Philly who had a small cement back yard walled in with cinderblock. She had raised many litters of wild cats there, and had actually marked Jasper's birthdate on her calendar. Finally I had a cat with a known date of birth! She told me Jasper was born during a huge March snowstorm in a cardboard box lined with towels in her backyard. The day I met her, Olivia introduced me to Jasper's mother, Tiger, but his father did not turn up until a subsequent visit on which I had brought Jasper to show Olivia. I had Jasper in my arms and we went to the backyard. A few minutes later (it was dinnertime for her wild charges) a small, thin black male appeared, one with a shiny tar-black coat like Jasper's, and Olivia's voice was heavy with emotion when she spoke to him and said "Midnite! There's your son, Jasper!" So yes, my cat was reunited, and even Olivia felt the vibe.
Olivia became one of my best friends. We had a major philosophical difference that we could not talk about. As grateful as I am to have Jasper in my life, I disagreed with her continually feeding the wild cats, enabling them to go on procreating without at least having some sterilized to stop the cycle. To wipe them out by taking them all to a shelter struck her as heartless, but I saw allowing all these kittens to be born and then taken to the shelter as unkind too. In any case, we were united in our love of animals of all kinds, and she was a sweet lady with a hard head and a soft heart.
Essentially, besides being my friend, she gave me two of my best friends. It was because of her care of her urban feral kitties that I eventually also ended up adopting Katey Lou who was born in Olivia's back bedroom, after she'd brought the pregnant mom inside to avoid predation by a mean cat who was frequenting the neighborhood.
There is also a certain neighbor of Olivia's who owes Olivia thanks. Olivia knew I did searches to help adoptees and birthparents who were searching for one another, and made a point of introducing me to this neighbor who had been a young girl when she had to give up a son. I found the son for her, and had the honor of participating in their reunion.
Because I did not live in Philadelphia, and Olivia had no phone for many years, our friendship was largely maintained by letter. She was a spirited writer, and always had an upbeat attitude. Her letters were full of stories about the cats in her backyard, about Beauty, Stranger, and Grey and the rest of their little clan living within her cinder block walls in cardboard boxes she'd cadged from the Acme supermarket that were covered with plastic sheeting to keep them dry, and stuffed with towels and old blankets for warmth. I wrote too; my routine each week was to do employee timesheets and payroll each Friday, and then type out and mail a letter to Liv. I'd visit the city when I could, picking up food for us both or doing stuff around her house that she could no longer do. Later on after I married, my husband accompanied me on these trips and came to love her as well, helping fix things - a light bulb too high in a ceiling fixture, a broken lamp. I remember this past year, my husband and I got a few of her rings out of hock at a pawn shop just because they had meaning to her and we hated knowing she didn't have them.
She was a spunky lady. Her life hadn't been easy; she lost two husbands yet she forged on. Most of her working years were spent in blue collar jobs, like on a line at a belt factory called Acme Novelty on Race Street, but she also worked at Lincoln Bank. She had a portrait of herself as a girl which let you know what a lovely young woman she'd once been, huge blue eyes and a winning smile. Even in her later years, she still had those amazing baby blues, and thick, beautiful white hair. Her humor was great and she loved to tell stories, jokes she read, or funny things from her past. She talked about cats from the past, the outside ones, and her several indoor cats over the years particularly a Siamese named Mai Lin.
Love and marriage seem to have been tricky for my friend. As you can see, she was a sweet-looking young girl and in her neighborhood she was probably a magnet for all kinds of guys. She did not speak often about her husbands.
She absolutely never spoke about a man she appears to have married back in 1945 or 1946 - I only discovered him recently when looking at Philadelphia marriage records and my jaw dropped in surprise. If she did marry this man, then she and her sister were married close together, and one wonders about sibling rivalry or daddy marrying them off. I later spoke with one of Olivia's nephews, and he told me "That guy Ralph used to beat her" and so they divorced. Small wonder she did not speak of him. By 1950's census, she was back home with her father at 2117 Brandywine, and a houseload of boarders he had there.
She'd marry again the same year. Olivia also would never speak about her one husband Joe (probably her second) who sounded as though he might have been a man of ill repute, based on how reluctantly she shared his name. Her nephew said that he was like a child, would eat hugely without shame when invited over, and often then have to go not long after. The nephew said "Yeah, he had to go... off with his buddies or to some prostitute's." So perhaps it's no surprise that she barely spoke of him too.
She kept a few secrets from me about another husband too (probably her third husband), Mr. Mulligan, but later came clean about him. Other than that, she was always open and sunny, and pretty much stayed that way until this past year, as she began having trouble walking after a fall in the Acme supermarket parking lot. Her knees hurt, she had something like frozen shoulder syndrome, and began using a walker.
Sometimes your subconscious knows exactly how things will play out. That was true for me in that I knew how she would die, and how I would hear of it, so when I learned of Olivia's passing today it felt more like deja vu than news.
Olivia was of Lithuanian descent. Her dad was "off the boat" and her mom, while born in Pennsylvania, had parents who also were "off the boat". Olivia told me her mother Anna died when she and her sister were young (which I later found was untrue, but that story belongs on her mother's memorial). Her father raised the girls alone, having to fight to keep them because a man raising kids alone wasn't done back then. He died at a relatively young age of a stroke that he suffered while on a city bus.
Olivia had high blood pressure, and said she was unable to swallow the pills required for her to control it. I have to wonder if that were entirely the issue, as she was not generally good about heeding doctors' advice. She had told me her blood pressure readings, and they were sky high, and for years I feared this high blood pressure would lead to a stroke for her too or possibly to her demise.
Finding out about her death was another matter. Olivia kept her friends rather compartmentalized and was careful about what she told each of us. She didn't like anyone in her business, and you learned over time which subjects were taboo and avoided them with her. Unlike most of her friends, I did not live in her neighborhood, and was not part of her daily life. Thus, I knew when her time came I would hear about it secondhand and a little late.
I believe the last time I saw Olivia was with my husband on May 17, 2009 because she sent me a picture she'd taken of him and dated it on the back. The picture makes me smile wryly, because it was taken by her when she was seated, shot through the arms of her walker. The summer of 2009 was a crazy one for me, because my mother fell and broke her hip, leading to a month in the hospital and three months in rehab for her, and lots of back and forth driving for me. It was a lot of stress for us both, and I was rather maxxed out. I was a poor friend to all of my friends, as my way of coping was to isolate myself and deal only with what I had to.
It was only after my mom came home at Thanksgiving and I began taking care of her that I was able to gather my thoughts and call Olivia (because she'd finally gotten a phone) whom my husband and I had not seen since summer. In fact, I had begun doing my Christmas shopping, and every year I sent Olivia something tasty and soft because she loved treats and did not have a lot of teeth left. I can remember sending her a rum-soaked butter cake, and ultra-soft tropical fruitcakes. Anyway, it was time to choose something for Olivia, and I knew I should call first. For one thing, she had been talking about putting herself in some kind of assisted situation so she may have moved. For another thing, I think I knew things were not good with her and that she might be gone.
I called her phone and got a recording that the number was disconnected.
Thankfully, months before, I had exchanged contact info with one of Olivia's neighbors whom I'll call Miriam. I had Miriam's phone number and called it. The conversation was confusing, because she thought I had already been alerted about Olivia's passing by another neighbor who had become Olivia's newest confidante, and who had been given my phone number. Thus, Miriam began telling me how Olivia died, never knowing that this was the first I'd heard of it.
It seems Olivia had had a stroke over the summer. She'd been to the hospital and then to a nursing home in the northeast section of Philadelphia. She did very well with rehab, and got stronger and better until she was sent home. Her care plan said she was entitled to home physical therapy and social worker visits, and that's where her recovery got unhinged, because she refused to allow these folks in. It would be just like Olivia to not want these people "in her business" and to staunchly believe she had the right to live as she chose without such personal interference, unable to see it would help her in the long run. She suffered another stroke, and ended up at Jefferson Hospital, where she passed away. I'm told her ultimate cause of death was a heart attack from which she could not recover.
The only solace to me is knowing that one friend and neighbor, a young woman studying to become a Christian counselor, was with Olivia the night before her passing, reading a segment of the Bible to Olivia from Song of Solomon, wherein the relationship of Jesus and his church is compared to that of a groom and bride. We, members of the church are the Bride, and Jesus is the Bridegroom. In chapter four the Bridegroom declares, "How beautiful you are, my darling, how beautiful you are!" He extolls others of her virtues and says "Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee." It's not just about the beauty - "fair" means clean of spirit allegorically. Though Olivia could not speak, I like to think she found peace in anticipating being found worthy after her passing.
Olivia died two days before I called and learned all this. If people who have passed away can influence what happens on earth, it would be just like Olivia to keep the news of her passing from me until I could deal with it, but not so long that I would miss the chance to pay my last respects to her. I am awaiting arrangement information as I write this. She had bought a plot for herself at Holy Cross cemetery in Yeadon to rest with her two husbands, and will probably be cremated.
Childless and secretive, Olivia's home, belongings and cat will be handled by some neighbors, and hopefully with respect. It's not my place to step in, though she once asked me to and I demurred. She didn't own much to speak of, but I worry for her cat, Callie, a calico, who was a backyard kitty Olivia had taken inside, and who never got accustomed to other people. Callie's going to have a big adjustment to make wherever life takes her next, and I hope she does well. I know Olivia had found it remarkable that Callie approached me when my husband and I visited, because she was a very wary cat, having lived most of her life as a feral urban kitty. Still, when I say Callie "approached me" I mean she came close or sniffed me, but never consented to petting or handling, not with me, and not even with Olivia whom she trusted as much as she could trust any human. I wonder who will have a place for such a cat, and hope that person has much patience and tolerance and is at peace with a cat who relates in a seemingly distant way.
Thank you for remembering the lovely soul that was Olivia. Please say a prayer for her, and for her cat Callie whose fate seems undetermined at this time. Olivia loved animals and all things natural, so any token you might leave relating to them would be lovely.
Update December 17, 2009: Olivia was laid to rest today. Her sister, who was in charge of arrangements, had made no provisions for a service. One of Olivia's neighbors and I met with the undertaker at the cemetery. I carried Olivia's ashes (in a humble wooden box) to the resting spot, and placed them on a pedestal in front of the gravedigger. On top, the funeral director laid the Saint Anthony of Padua medal I had brought. Olivia's neighbor had brought some lovely flowers, with Olivia's favorite candy bar tucked in the bouquet.
I read a section of the Bible that seemed written for our friend from the 25th chapter of Matthew.
I began "Inasmuch as Olivia had a loved husband in prison, and fed and sheltered homeless cats, one of whom was named Stranger, these words are fit for her-"
"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory.
Before him all the nations will be gathered, and he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.
He will set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.
Then the King will tell those on his right hand, 'Come, blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world;
for I was hungry, and you gave me food to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink; I was a stranger, and you took me in;
naked, and you clothed me; I was sick, and you visited me; I was in prison, and you came to me.'
"Then the righteous will answer him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry, and feed you; or thirsty, and give you a drink?
When did we see you as a stranger, and take you in; or naked, and clothe you?
When did we see you sick, or in prison, and come to you?'
"The King will answer them, 'Most assuredly I tell you, inasmuch as you did it for one of the least of these my brothers, you did it for me.'
Then he will say also to those on the left hand, 'Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared for the devil and his angels;
for I was hungry, and you didn't give me food to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me no drink;
I was a stranger, and you didn't take me in; naked, and you didn't clothe me; sick, and in prison, and you didn't visit me.'
"Then they will also answer, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and didn't help you?'
"Then he will answer them, saying, 'Most assuredly I tell you, inasmuch as you didn't do it for one of the least of these, you didn't do it for me.'
These will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life."
The funeral director led us in the Lord's prayer and we left with heavy hearts. Shortly thereafter, I got stuck in a four hour traffic jam caused by a truck fire, and swear I heard Olivia giggling. Anyway...
I am not Catholic, but had come to know a bit about Saint Anthony of Padua and his love and respect for God's creatures. Some organization has sent me two such medals, attached to Novena prayer cards. The prayer reads:
"O Holy Saint Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and charity for His creatures, made you worthy, when on earth, to possess miraculous powers. Miracles waited on your word, which you were ever ready to speak for those in trouble or anxiety. Encouraged by this thought, I implore of you to obtain for me (state your request). The answer to my prayer may require a miracle, even so, you are the Saint of Miracles.
O gentle and loving Saint Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of the Sweet Infant Jesus, who loved to be folded in your arms; and the gratitude of my heart will ever be yours. Amen.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory be."
Update, January 2011: Apparently Olivia's home is finally being cleaned out. A neighbor helping sent me an envelope, and inside was an envelope Olivia had addressed to my husband and me, sealed. I opened it, and it was her Christmas card, apparently for the Christmas she didn't live to see. In it, she says she was sorry to have missed us when we were in town, and hopes we can see each other over the holidays. It felt like she'd reached across the heavens to say goodbye one more time.
Remember, if you'd like to meet the lucky souls (furry and non-furry) who were loved by Olivia, you can visit Olivia's family.
"Do not weep for me when I am gone
For I have friends in the great beyond.
All the little ones I used to feed
Will come to me in my time of need.
They will purr and bark in great delight,
And I will hold and hug them tight.
Oh what a great day that will be
When my furry friends all welcome me."
--Richard Severo
December 12, 2009, I learned that my friend Olivia had died. We had been friends since 1994 when I adopted my cat Jasper, my oldest feline friend and family member, from the Morris Animal Refuge in South Philadelphia.
After my big black cat LeRoy died, when I knew I needed to find companionship for my other cat, the grieving Nitz, I was enough of a sentimental sap to go back to the shelter from which I had gotten LeRoy 13 years before. After a lot of time and dithering, I settled on a lovely black kitten who seemed to like me too. At the desk, I asked where he was from and was advised he had been brought in by someone local... they thought... hold on...and they looked it up. My eye fell on the book and I memorized the address of the "donor" thinking someday I would stop by and say "Thank you, your black kitten is fine".
Jasper's adoption began as a closed one, but I was able to track down his history through that address I'd seen. It lead to the home of Olivia, a 60-something year old woman living alone in South Philly who had a small cement back yard walled in with cinderblock. She had raised many litters of wild cats there, and had actually marked Jasper's birthdate on her calendar. Finally I had a cat with a known date of birth! She told me Jasper was born during a huge March snowstorm in a cardboard box lined with towels in her backyard. The day I met her, Olivia introduced me to Jasper's mother, Tiger, but his father did not turn up until a subsequent visit on which I had brought Jasper to show Olivia. I had Jasper in my arms and we went to the backyard. A few minutes later (it was dinnertime for her wild charges) a small, thin black male appeared, one with a shiny tar-black coat like Jasper's, and Olivia's voice was heavy with emotion when she spoke to him and said "Midnite! There's your son, Jasper!" So yes, my cat was reunited, and even Olivia felt the vibe.
Olivia became one of my best friends. We had a major philosophical difference that we could not talk about. As grateful as I am to have Jasper in my life, I disagreed with her continually feeding the wild cats, enabling them to go on procreating without at least having some sterilized to stop the cycle. To wipe them out by taking them all to a shelter struck her as heartless, but I saw allowing all these kittens to be born and then taken to the shelter as unkind too. In any case, we were united in our love of animals of all kinds, and she was a sweet lady with a hard head and a soft heart.
Essentially, besides being my friend, she gave me two of my best friends. It was because of her care of her urban feral kitties that I eventually also ended up adopting Katey Lou who was born in Olivia's back bedroom, after she'd brought the pregnant mom inside to avoid predation by a mean cat who was frequenting the neighborhood.
There is also a certain neighbor of Olivia's who owes Olivia thanks. Olivia knew I did searches to help adoptees and birthparents who were searching for one another, and made a point of introducing me to this neighbor who had been a young girl when she had to give up a son. I found the son for her, and had the honor of participating in their reunion.
Because I did not live in Philadelphia, and Olivia had no phone for many years, our friendship was largely maintained by letter. She was a spirited writer, and always had an upbeat attitude. Her letters were full of stories about the cats in her backyard, about Beauty, Stranger, and Grey and the rest of their little clan living within her cinder block walls in cardboard boxes she'd cadged from the Acme supermarket that were covered with plastic sheeting to keep them dry, and stuffed with towels and old blankets for warmth. I wrote too; my routine each week was to do employee timesheets and payroll each Friday, and then type out and mail a letter to Liv. I'd visit the city when I could, picking up food for us both or doing stuff around her house that she could no longer do. Later on after I married, my husband accompanied me on these trips and came to love her as well, helping fix things - a light bulb too high in a ceiling fixture, a broken lamp. I remember this past year, my husband and I got a few of her rings out of hock at a pawn shop just because they had meaning to her and we hated knowing she didn't have them.
She was a spunky lady. Her life hadn't been easy; she lost two husbands yet she forged on. Most of her working years were spent in blue collar jobs, like on a line at a belt factory called Acme Novelty on Race Street, but she also worked at Lincoln Bank. She had a portrait of herself as a girl which let you know what a lovely young woman she'd once been, huge blue eyes and a winning smile. Even in her later years, she still had those amazing baby blues, and thick, beautiful white hair. Her humor was great and she loved to tell stories, jokes she read, or funny things from her past. She talked about cats from the past, the outside ones, and her several indoor cats over the years particularly a Siamese named Mai Lin.
Love and marriage seem to have been tricky for my friend. As you can see, she was a sweet-looking young girl and in her neighborhood she was probably a magnet for all kinds of guys. She did not speak often about her husbands.
She absolutely never spoke about a man she appears to have married back in 1945 or 1946 - I only discovered him recently when looking at Philadelphia marriage records and my jaw dropped in surprise. If she did marry this man, then she and her sister were married close together, and one wonders about sibling rivalry or daddy marrying them off. I later spoke with one of Olivia's nephews, and he told me "That guy Ralph used to beat her" and so they divorced. Small wonder she did not speak of him. By 1950's census, she was back home with her father at 2117 Brandywine, and a houseload of boarders he had there.
She'd marry again the same year. Olivia also would never speak about her one husband Joe (probably her second) who sounded as though he might have been a man of ill repute, based on how reluctantly she shared his name. Her nephew said that he was like a child, would eat hugely without shame when invited over, and often then have to go not long after. The nephew said "Yeah, he had to go... off with his buddies or to some prostitute's." So perhaps it's no surprise that she barely spoke of him too.
She kept a few secrets from me about another husband too (probably her third husband), Mr. Mulligan, but later came clean about him. Other than that, she was always open and sunny, and pretty much stayed that way until this past year, as she began having trouble walking after a fall in the Acme supermarket parking lot. Her knees hurt, she had something like frozen shoulder syndrome, and began using a walker.
Sometimes your subconscious knows exactly how things will play out. That was true for me in that I knew how she would die, and how I would hear of it, so when I learned of Olivia's passing today it felt more like deja vu than news.
Olivia was of Lithuanian descent. Her dad was "off the boat" and her mom, while born in Pennsylvania, had parents who also were "off the boat". Olivia told me her mother Anna died when she and her sister were young (which I later found was untrue, but that story belongs on her mother's memorial). Her father raised the girls alone, having to fight to keep them because a man raising kids alone wasn't done back then. He died at a relatively young age of a stroke that he suffered while on a city bus.
Olivia had high blood pressure, and said she was unable to swallow the pills required for her to control it. I have to wonder if that were entirely the issue, as she was not generally good about heeding doctors' advice. She had told me her blood pressure readings, and they were sky high, and for years I feared this high blood pressure would lead to a stroke for her too or possibly to her demise.
Finding out about her death was another matter. Olivia kept her friends rather compartmentalized and was careful about what she told each of us. She didn't like anyone in her business, and you learned over time which subjects were taboo and avoided them with her. Unlike most of her friends, I did not live in her neighborhood, and was not part of her daily life. Thus, I knew when her time came I would hear about it secondhand and a little late.
I believe the last time I saw Olivia was with my husband on May 17, 2009 because she sent me a picture she'd taken of him and dated it on the back. The picture makes me smile wryly, because it was taken by her when she was seated, shot through the arms of her walker. The summer of 2009 was a crazy one for me, because my mother fell and broke her hip, leading to a month in the hospital and three months in rehab for her, and lots of back and forth driving for me. It was a lot of stress for us both, and I was rather maxxed out. I was a poor friend to all of my friends, as my way of coping was to isolate myself and deal only with what I had to.
It was only after my mom came home at Thanksgiving and I began taking care of her that I was able to gather my thoughts and call Olivia (because she'd finally gotten a phone) whom my husband and I had not seen since summer. In fact, I had begun doing my Christmas shopping, and every year I sent Olivia something tasty and soft because she loved treats and did not have a lot of teeth left. I can remember sending her a rum-soaked butter cake, and ultra-soft tropical fruitcakes. Anyway, it was time to choose something for Olivia, and I knew I should call first. For one thing, she had been talking about putting herself in some kind of assisted situation so she may have moved. For another thing, I think I knew things were not good with her and that she might be gone.
I called her phone and got a recording that the number was disconnected.
Thankfully, months before, I had exchanged contact info with one of Olivia's neighbors whom I'll call Miriam. I had Miriam's phone number and called it. The conversation was confusing, because she thought I had already been alerted about Olivia's passing by another neighbor who had become Olivia's newest confidante, and who had been given my phone number. Thus, Miriam began telling me how Olivia died, never knowing that this was the first I'd heard of it.
It seems Olivia had had a stroke over the summer. She'd been to the hospital and then to a nursing home in the northeast section of Philadelphia. She did very well with rehab, and got stronger and better until she was sent home. Her care plan said she was entitled to home physical therapy and social worker visits, and that's where her recovery got unhinged, because she refused to allow these folks in. It would be just like Olivia to not want these people "in her business" and to staunchly believe she had the right to live as she chose without such personal interference, unable to see it would help her in the long run. She suffered another stroke, and ended up at Jefferson Hospital, where she passed away. I'm told her ultimate cause of death was a heart attack from which she could not recover.
The only solace to me is knowing that one friend and neighbor, a young woman studying to become a Christian counselor, was with Olivia the night before her passing, reading a segment of the Bible to Olivia from Song of Solomon, wherein the relationship of Jesus and his church is compared to that of a groom and bride. We, members of the church are the Bride, and Jesus is the Bridegroom. In chapter four the Bridegroom declares, "How beautiful you are, my darling, how beautiful you are!" He extolls others of her virtues and says "Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee." It's not just about the beauty - "fair" means clean of spirit allegorically. Though Olivia could not speak, I like to think she found peace in anticipating being found worthy after her passing.
Olivia died two days before I called and learned all this. If people who have passed away can influence what happens on earth, it would be just like Olivia to keep the news of her passing from me until I could deal with it, but not so long that I would miss the chance to pay my last respects to her. I am awaiting arrangement information as I write this. She had bought a plot for herself at Holy Cross cemetery in Yeadon to rest with her two husbands, and will probably be cremated.
Childless and secretive, Olivia's home, belongings and cat will be handled by some neighbors, and hopefully with respect. It's not my place to step in, though she once asked me to and I demurred. She didn't own much to speak of, but I worry for her cat, Callie, a calico, who was a backyard kitty Olivia had taken inside, and who never got accustomed to other people. Callie's going to have a big adjustment to make wherever life takes her next, and I hope she does well. I know Olivia had found it remarkable that Callie approached me when my husband and I visited, because she was a very wary cat, having lived most of her life as a feral urban kitty. Still, when I say Callie "approached me" I mean she came close or sniffed me, but never consented to petting or handling, not with me, and not even with Olivia whom she trusted as much as she could trust any human. I wonder who will have a place for such a cat, and hope that person has much patience and tolerance and is at peace with a cat who relates in a seemingly distant way.
Thank you for remembering the lovely soul that was Olivia. Please say a prayer for her, and for her cat Callie whose fate seems undetermined at this time. Olivia loved animals and all things natural, so any token you might leave relating to them would be lovely.
Update December 17, 2009: Olivia was laid to rest today. Her sister, who was in charge of arrangements, had made no provisions for a service. One of Olivia's neighbors and I met with the undertaker at the cemetery. I carried Olivia's ashes (in a humble wooden box) to the resting spot, and placed them on a pedestal in front of the gravedigger. On top, the funeral director laid the Saint Anthony of Padua medal I had brought. Olivia's neighbor had brought some lovely flowers, with Olivia's favorite candy bar tucked in the bouquet.
I read a section of the Bible that seemed written for our friend from the 25th chapter of Matthew.
I began "Inasmuch as Olivia had a loved husband in prison, and fed and sheltered homeless cats, one of whom was named Stranger, these words are fit for her-"
"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory.
Before him all the nations will be gathered, and he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.
He will set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.
Then the King will tell those on his right hand, 'Come, blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world;
for I was hungry, and you gave me food to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink; I was a stranger, and you took me in;
naked, and you clothed me; I was sick, and you visited me; I was in prison, and you came to me.'
"Then the righteous will answer him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry, and feed you; or thirsty, and give you a drink?
When did we see you as a stranger, and take you in; or naked, and clothe you?
When did we see you sick, or in prison, and come to you?'
"The King will answer them, 'Most assuredly I tell you, inasmuch as you did it for one of the least of these my brothers, you did it for me.'
Then he will say also to those on the left hand, 'Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared for the devil and his angels;
for I was hungry, and you didn't give me food to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me no drink;
I was a stranger, and you didn't take me in; naked, and you didn't clothe me; sick, and in prison, and you didn't visit me.'
"Then they will also answer, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and didn't help you?'
"Then he will answer them, saying, 'Most assuredly I tell you, inasmuch as you didn't do it for one of the least of these, you didn't do it for me.'
These will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life."
The funeral director led us in the Lord's prayer and we left with heavy hearts. Shortly thereafter, I got stuck in a four hour traffic jam caused by a truck fire, and swear I heard Olivia giggling. Anyway...
I am not Catholic, but had come to know a bit about Saint Anthony of Padua and his love and respect for God's creatures. Some organization has sent me two such medals, attached to Novena prayer cards. The prayer reads:
"O Holy Saint Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and charity for His creatures, made you worthy, when on earth, to possess miraculous powers. Miracles waited on your word, which you were ever ready to speak for those in trouble or anxiety. Encouraged by this thought, I implore of you to obtain for me (state your request). The answer to my prayer may require a miracle, even so, you are the Saint of Miracles.
O gentle and loving Saint Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of the Sweet Infant Jesus, who loved to be folded in your arms; and the gratitude of my heart will ever be yours. Amen.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory be."
Update, January 2011: Apparently Olivia's home is finally being cleaned out. A neighbor helping sent me an envelope, and inside was an envelope Olivia had addressed to my husband and me, sealed. I opened it, and it was her Christmas card, apparently for the Christmas she didn't live to see. In it, she says she was sorry to have missed us when we were in town, and hopes we can see each other over the holidays. It felt like she'd reached across the heavens to say goodbye one more time.
Remember, if you'd like to meet the lucky souls (furry and non-furry) who were loved by Olivia, you can visit Olivia's family.
If, after reading this memorial, you'd like to see the gallery of people and animals who were lucky enough to have Olivia in their lives, you can visit Olivia's family.
"Do not weep for me when I am gone
For I have friends in the great beyond.
All the little ones I used to feed
Will come to me in my time of need.
They will purr and bark in great delight,
And I will hold and hug them tight.
Oh what a great day that will be
When my furry friends all welcome me."
--Richard Severo
December 12, 2009, I learned that my friend Olivia had died. We had been friends since 1994 when I adopted my cat Jasper, my oldest feline friend and family member, from the Morris Animal Refuge in South Philadelphia.
After my big black cat LeRoy died, when I knew I needed to find companionship for my other cat, the grieving Nitz, I was enough of a sentimental sap to go back to the shelter from which I had gotten LeRoy 13 years before. After a lot of time and dithering, I settled on a lovely black kitten who seemed to like me too. At the desk, I asked where he was from and was advised he had been brought in by someone local... they thought... hold on...and they looked it up. My eye fell on the book and I memorized the address of the "donor" thinking someday I would stop by and say "Thank you, your black kitten is fine".
Jasper's adoption began as a closed one, but I was able to track down his history through that address I'd seen. It lead to the home of Olivia, a 60-something year old woman living alone in South Philly who had a small cement back yard walled in with cinderblock. She had raised many litters of wild cats there, and had actually marked Jasper's birthdate on her calendar. Finally I had a cat with a known date of birth! She told me Jasper was born during a huge March snowstorm in a cardboard box lined with towels in her backyard. The day I met her, Olivia introduced me to Jasper's mother, Tiger, but his father did not turn up until a subsequent visit on which I had brought Jasper to show Olivia. I had Jasper in my arms and we went to the backyard. A few minutes later (it was dinnertime for her wild charges) a small, thin black male appeared, one with a shiny tar-black coat like Jasper's, and Olivia's voice was heavy with emotion when she spoke to him and said "Midnite! There's your son, Jasper!" So yes, my cat was reunited, and even Olivia felt the vibe.
Olivia became one of my best friends. We had a major philosophical difference that we could not talk about. As grateful as I am to have Jasper in my life, I disagreed with her continually feeding the wild cats, enabling them to go on procreating without at least having some sterilized to stop the cycle. To wipe them out by taking them all to a shelter struck her as heartless, but I saw allowing all these kittens to be born and then taken to the shelter as unkind too. In any case, we were united in our love of animals of all kinds, and she was a sweet lady with a hard head and a soft heart.
Essentially, besides being my friend, she gave me two of my best friends. It was because of her care of her urban feral kitties that I eventually also ended up adopting Katey Lou who was born in Olivia's back bedroom, after she'd brought the pregnant mom inside to avoid predation by a mean cat who was frequenting the neighborhood.
There is also a certain neighbor of Olivia's who owes Olivia thanks. Olivia knew I did searches to help adoptees and birthparents who were searching for one another, and made a point of introducing me to this neighbor who had been a young girl when she had to give up a son. I found the son for her, and had the honor of participating in their reunion.
Because I did not live in Philadelphia, and Olivia had no phone for many years, our friendship was largely maintained by letter. She was a spirited writer, and always had an upbeat attitude. Her letters were full of stories about the cats in her backyard, about Beauty, Stranger, and Grey and the rest of their little clan living within her cinder block walls in cardboard boxes she'd cadged from the Acme supermarket that were covered with plastic sheeting to keep them dry, and stuffed with towels and old blankets for warmth. I wrote too; my routine each week was to do employee timesheets and payroll each Friday, and then type out and mail a letter to Liv. I'd visit the city when I could, picking up food for us both or doing stuff around her house that she could no longer do. Later on after I married, my husband accompanied me on these trips and came to love her as well, helping fix things - a light bulb too high in a ceiling fixture, a broken lamp. I remember this past year, my husband and I got a few of her rings out of hock at a pawn shop just because they had meaning to her and we hated knowing she didn't have them.
She was a spunky lady. Her life hadn't been easy; she lost two husbands yet she forged on. Most of her working years were spent in blue collar jobs, like on a line at a belt factory called Acme Novelty on Race Street, but she also worked at Lincoln Bank. She had a portrait of herself as a girl which let you know what a lovely young woman she'd once been, huge blue eyes and a winning smile. Even in her later years, she still had those amazing baby blues, and thick, beautiful white hair. Her humor was great and she loved to tell stories, jokes she read, or funny things from her past. She talked about cats from the past, the outside ones, and her several indoor cats over the years particularly a Siamese named Mai Lin.
Love and marriage seem to have been tricky for my friend. As you can see, she was a sweet-looking young girl and in her neighborhood she was probably a magnet for all kinds of guys. She did not speak often about her husbands.
She absolutely never spoke about a man she appears to have married back in 1945 or 1946 - I only discovered him recently when looking at Philadelphia marriage records and my jaw dropped in surprise. If she did marry this man, then she and her sister were married close together, and one wonders about sibling rivalry or daddy marrying them off. I later spoke with one of Olivia's nephews, and he told me "That guy Ralph used to beat her" and so they divorced. Small wonder she did not speak of him. By 1950's census, she was back home with her father at 2117 Brandywine, and a houseload of boarders he had there.
She'd marry again the same year. Olivia also would never speak about her one husband Joe (probably her second) who sounded as though he might have been a man of ill repute, based on how reluctantly she shared his name. Her nephew said that he was like a child, would eat hugely without shame when invited over, and often then have to go not long after. The nephew said "Yeah, he had to go... off with his buddies or to some prostitute's." So perhaps it's no surprise that she barely spoke of him too.
She kept a few secrets from me about another husband too (probably her third husband), Mr. Mulligan, but later came clean about him. Other than that, she was always open and sunny, and pretty much stayed that way until this past year, as she began having trouble walking after a fall in the Acme supermarket parking lot. Her knees hurt, she had something like frozen shoulder syndrome, and began using a walker.
Sometimes your subconscious knows exactly how things will play out. That was true for me in that I knew how she would die, and how I would hear of it, so when I learned of Olivia's passing today it felt more like deja vu than news.
Olivia was of Lithuanian descent. Her dad was "off the boat" and her mom, while born in Pennsylvania, had parents who also were "off the boat". Olivia told me her mother Anna died when she and her sister were young (which I later found was untrue, but that story belongs on her mother's memorial). Her father raised the girls alone, having to fight to keep them because a man raising kids alone wasn't done back then. He died at a relatively young age of a stroke that he suffered while on a city bus.
Olivia had high blood pressure, and said she was unable to swallow the pills required for her to control it. I have to wonder if that were entirely the issue, as she was not generally good about heeding doctors' advice. She had told me her blood pressure readings, and they were sky high, and for years I feared this high blood pressure would lead to a stroke for her too or possibly to her demise.
Finding out about her death was another matter. Olivia kept her friends rather compartmentalized and was careful about what she told each of us. She didn't like anyone in her business, and you learned over time which subjects were taboo and avoided them with her. Unlike most of her friends, I did not live in her neighborhood, and was not part of her daily life. Thus, I knew when her time came I would hear about it secondhand and a little late.
I believe the last time I saw Olivia was with my husband on May 17, 2009 because she sent me a picture she'd taken of him and dated it on the back. The picture makes me smile wryly, because it was taken by her when she was seated, shot through the arms of her walker. The summer of 2009 was a crazy one for me, because my mother fell and broke her hip, leading to a month in the hospital and three months in rehab for her, and lots of back and forth driving for me. It was a lot of stress for us both, and I was rather maxxed out. I was a poor friend to all of my friends, as my way of coping was to isolate myself and deal only with what I had to.
It was only after my mom came home at Thanksgiving and I began taking care of her that I was able to gather my thoughts and call Olivia (because she'd finally gotten a phone) whom my husband and I had not seen since summer. In fact, I had begun doing my Christmas shopping, and every year I sent Olivia something tasty and soft because she loved treats and did not have a lot of teeth left. I can remember sending her a rum-soaked butter cake, and ultra-soft tropical fruitcakes. Anyway, it was time to choose something for Olivia, and I knew I should call first. For one thing, she had been talking about putting herself in some kind of assisted situation so she may have moved. For another thing, I think I knew things were not good with her and that she might be gone.
I called her phone and got a recording that the number was disconnected.
Thankfully, months before, I had exchanged contact info with one of Olivia's neighbors whom I'll call Miriam. I had Miriam's phone number and called it. The conversation was confusing, because she thought I had already been alerted about Olivia's passing by another neighbor who had become Olivia's newest confidante, and who had been given my phone number. Thus, Miriam began telling me how Olivia died, never knowing that this was the first I'd heard of it.
It seems Olivia had had a stroke over the summer. She'd been to the hospital and then to a nursing home in the northeast section of Philadelphia. She did very well with rehab, and got stronger and better until she was sent home. Her care plan said she was entitled to home physical therapy and social worker visits, and that's where her recovery got unhinged, because she refused to allow these folks in. It would be just like Olivia to not want these people "in her business" and to staunchly believe she had the right to live as she chose without such personal interference, unable to see it would help her in the long run. She suffered another stroke, and ended up at Jefferson Hospital, where she passed away. I'm told her ultimate cause of death was a heart attack from which she could not recover.
The only solace to me is knowing that one friend and neighbor, a young woman studying to become a Christian counselor, was with Olivia the night before her passing, reading a segment of the Bible to Olivia from Song of Solomon, wherein the relationship of Jesus and his church is compared to that of a groom and bride. We, members of the church are the Bride, and Jesus is the Bridegroom. In chapter four the Bridegroom declares, "How beautiful you are, my darling, how beautiful you are!" He extolls others of her virtues and says "Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee." It's not just about the beauty - "fair" means clean of spirit allegorically. Though Olivia could not speak, I like to think she found peace in anticipating being found worthy after her passing.
Olivia died two days before I called and learned all this. If people who have passed away can influence what happens on earth, it would be just like Olivia to keep the news of her passing from me until I could deal with it, but not so long that I would miss the chance to pay my last respects to her. I am awaiting arrangement information as I write this. She had bought a plot for herself at Holy Cross cemetery in Yeadon to rest with her two husbands, and will probably be cremated.
Childless and secretive, Olivia's home, belongings and cat will be handled by some neighbors, and hopefully with respect. It's not my place to step in, though she once asked me to and I demurred. She didn't own much to speak of, but I worry for her cat, Callie, a calico, who was a backyard kitty Olivia had taken inside, and who never got accustomed to other people. Callie's going to have a big adjustment to make wherever life takes her next, and I hope she does well. I know Olivia had found it remarkable that Callie approached me when my husband and I visited, because she was a very wary cat, having lived most of her life as a feral urban kitty. Still, when I say Callie "approached me" I mean she came close or sniffed me, but never consented to petting or handling, not with me, and not even with Olivia whom she trusted as much as she could trust any human. I wonder who will have a place for such a cat, and hope that person has much patience and tolerance and is at peace with a cat who relates in a seemingly distant way.
Thank you for remembering the lovely soul that was Olivia. Please say a prayer for her, and for her cat Callie whose fate seems undetermined at this time. Olivia loved animals and all things natural, so any token you might leave relating to them would be lovely.
Update December 17, 2009: Olivia was laid to rest today. Her sister, who was in charge of arrangements, had made no provisions for a service. One of Olivia's neighbors and I met with the undertaker at the cemetery. I carried Olivia's ashes (in a humble wooden box) to the resting spot, and placed them on a pedestal in front of the gravedigger. On top, the funeral director laid the Saint Anthony of Padua medal I had brought. Olivia's neighbor had brought some lovely flowers, with Olivia's favorite candy bar tucked in the bouquet.
I read a section of the Bible that seemed written for our friend from the 25th chapter of Matthew.
I began "Inasmuch as Olivia had a loved husband in prison, and fed and sheltered homeless cats, one of whom was named Stranger, these words are fit for her-"
"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory.
Before him all the nations will be gathered, and he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.
He will set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.
Then the King will tell those on his right hand, 'Come, blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world;
for I was hungry, and you gave me food to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink; I was a stranger, and you took me in;
naked, and you clothed me; I was sick, and you visited me; I was in prison, and you came to me.'
"Then the righteous will answer him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry, and feed you; or thirsty, and give you a drink?
When did we see you as a stranger, and take you in; or naked, and clothe you?
When did we see you sick, or in prison, and come to you?'
"The King will answer them, 'Most assuredly I tell you, inasmuch as you did it for one of the least of these my brothers, you did it for me.'
Then he will say also to those on the left hand, 'Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared for the devil and his angels;
for I was hungry, and you didn't give me food to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me no drink;
I was a stranger, and you didn't take me in; naked, and you didn't clothe me; sick, and in prison, and you didn't visit me.'
"Then they will also answer, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and didn't help you?'
"Then he will answer them, saying, 'Most assuredly I tell you, inasmuch as you didn't do it for one of the least of these, you didn't do it for me.'
These will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life."
The funeral director led us in the Lord's prayer and we left with heavy hearts. Shortly thereafter, I got stuck in a four hour traffic jam caused by a truck fire, and swear I heard Olivia giggling. Anyway...
I am not Catholic, but had come to know a bit about Saint Anthony of Padua and his love and respect for God's creatures. Some organization has sent me two such medals, attached to Novena prayer cards. The prayer reads:
"O Holy Saint Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and charity for His creatures, made you worthy, when on earth, to possess miraculous powers. Miracles waited on your word, which you were ever ready to speak for those in trouble or anxiety. Encouraged by this thought, I implore of you to obtain for me (state your request). The answer to my prayer may require a miracle, even so, you are the Saint of Miracles.
O gentle and loving Saint Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of the Sweet Infant Jesus, who loved to be folded in your arms; and the gratitude of my heart will ever be yours. Amen.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory be."
Update, January 2011: Apparently Olivia's home is finally being cleaned out. A neighbor helping sent me an envelope, and inside was an envelope Olivia had addressed to my husband and me, sealed. I opened it, and it was her Christmas card, apparently for the Christmas she didn't live to see. In it, she says she was sorry to have missed us when we were in town, and hopes we can see each other over the holidays. It felt like she'd reached across the heavens to say goodbye one more time.
Remember, if you'd like to meet the lucky souls (furry and non-furry) who were loved by Olivia, you can visit Olivia's family.
"Do not weep for me when I am gone
For I have friends in the great beyond.
All the little ones I used to feed
Will come to me in my time of need.
They will purr and bark in great delight,
And I will hold and hug them tight.
Oh what a great day that will be
When my furry friends all welcome me."
--Richard Severo
December 12, 2009, I learned that my friend Olivia had died. We had been friends since 1994 when I adopted my cat Jasper, my oldest feline friend and family member, from the Morris Animal Refuge in South Philadelphia.
After my big black cat LeRoy died, when I knew I needed to find companionship for my other cat, the grieving Nitz, I was enough of a sentimental sap to go back to the shelter from which I had gotten LeRoy 13 years before. After a lot of time and dithering, I settled on a lovely black kitten who seemed to like me too. At the desk, I asked where he was from and was advised he had been brought in by someone local... they thought... hold on...and they looked it up. My eye fell on the book and I memorized the address of the "donor" thinking someday I would stop by and say "Thank you, your black kitten is fine".
Jasper's adoption began as a closed one, but I was able to track down his history through that address I'd seen. It lead to the home of Olivia, a 60-something year old woman living alone in South Philly who had a small cement back yard walled in with cinderblock. She had raised many litters of wild cats there, and had actually marked Jasper's birthdate on her calendar. Finally I had a cat with a known date of birth! She told me Jasper was born during a huge March snowstorm in a cardboard box lined with towels in her backyard. The day I met her, Olivia introduced me to Jasper's mother, Tiger, but his father did not turn up until a subsequent visit on which I had brought Jasper to show Olivia. I had Jasper in my arms and we went to the backyard. A few minutes later (it was dinnertime for her wild charges) a small, thin black male appeared, one with a shiny tar-black coat like Jasper's, and Olivia's voice was heavy with emotion when she spoke to him and said "Midnite! There's your son, Jasper!" So yes, my cat was reunited, and even Olivia felt the vibe.
Olivia became one of my best friends. We had a major philosophical difference that we could not talk about. As grateful as I am to have Jasper in my life, I disagreed with her continually feeding the wild cats, enabling them to go on procreating without at least having some sterilized to stop the cycle. To wipe them out by taking them all to a shelter struck her as heartless, but I saw allowing all these kittens to be born and then taken to the shelter as unkind too. In any case, we were united in our love of animals of all kinds, and she was a sweet lady with a hard head and a soft heart.
Essentially, besides being my friend, she gave me two of my best friends. It was because of her care of her urban feral kitties that I eventually also ended up adopting Katey Lou who was born in Olivia's back bedroom, after she'd brought the pregnant mom inside to avoid predation by a mean cat who was frequenting the neighborhood.
There is also a certain neighbor of Olivia's who owes Olivia thanks. Olivia knew I did searches to help adoptees and birthparents who were searching for one another, and made a point of introducing me to this neighbor who had been a young girl when she had to give up a son. I found the son for her, and had the honor of participating in their reunion.
Because I did not live in Philadelphia, and Olivia had no phone for many years, our friendship was largely maintained by letter. She was a spirited writer, and always had an upbeat attitude. Her letters were full of stories about the cats in her backyard, about Beauty, Stranger, and Grey and the rest of their little clan living within her cinder block walls in cardboard boxes she'd cadged from the Acme supermarket that were covered with plastic sheeting to keep them dry, and stuffed with towels and old blankets for warmth. I wrote too; my routine each week was to do employee timesheets and payroll each Friday, and then type out and mail a letter to Liv. I'd visit the city when I could, picking up food for us both or doing stuff around her house that she could no longer do. Later on after I married, my husband accompanied me on these trips and came to love her as well, helping fix things - a light bulb too high in a ceiling fixture, a broken lamp. I remember this past year, my husband and I got a few of her rings out of hock at a pawn shop just because they had meaning to her and we hated knowing she didn't have them.
She was a spunky lady. Her life hadn't been easy; she lost two husbands yet she forged on. Most of her working years were spent in blue collar jobs, like on a line at a belt factory called Acme Novelty on Race Street, but she also worked at Lincoln Bank. She had a portrait of herself as a girl which let you know what a lovely young woman she'd once been, huge blue eyes and a winning smile. Even in her later years, she still had those amazing baby blues, and thick, beautiful white hair. Her humor was great and she loved to tell stories, jokes she read, or funny things from her past. She talked about cats from the past, the outside ones, and her several indoor cats over the years particularly a Siamese named Mai Lin.
Love and marriage seem to have been tricky for my friend. As you can see, she was a sweet-looking young girl and in her neighborhood she was probably a magnet for all kinds of guys. She did not speak often about her husbands.
She absolutely never spoke about a man she appears to have married back in 1945 or 1946 - I only discovered him recently when looking at Philadelphia marriage records and my jaw dropped in surprise. If she did marry this man, then she and her sister were married close together, and one wonders about sibling rivalry or daddy marrying them off. I later spoke with one of Olivia's nephews, and he told me "That guy Ralph used to beat her" and so they divorced. Small wonder she did not speak of him. By 1950's census, she was back home with her father at 2117 Brandywine, and a houseload of boarders he had there.
She'd marry again the same year. Olivia also would never speak about her one husband Joe (probably her second) who sounded as though he might have been a man of ill repute, based on how reluctantly she shared his name. Her nephew said that he was like a child, would eat hugely without shame when invited over, and often then have to go not long after. The nephew said "Yeah, he had to go... off with his buddies or to some prostitute's." So perhaps it's no surprise that she barely spoke of him too.
She kept a few secrets from me about another husband too (probably her third husband), Mr. Mulligan, but later came clean about him. Other than that, she was always open and sunny, and pretty much stayed that way until this past year, as she began having trouble walking after a fall in the Acme supermarket parking lot. Her knees hurt, she had something like frozen shoulder syndrome, and began using a walker.
Sometimes your subconscious knows exactly how things will play out. That was true for me in that I knew how she would die, and how I would hear of it, so when I learned of Olivia's passing today it felt more like deja vu than news.
Olivia was of Lithuanian descent. Her dad was "off the boat" and her mom, while born in Pennsylvania, had parents who also were "off the boat". Olivia told me her mother Anna died when she and her sister were young (which I later found was untrue, but that story belongs on her mother's memorial). Her father raised the girls alone, having to fight to keep them because a man raising kids alone wasn't done back then. He died at a relatively young age of a stroke that he suffered while on a city bus.
Olivia had high blood pressure, and said she was unable to swallow the pills required for her to control it. I have to wonder if that were entirely the issue, as she was not generally good about heeding doctors' advice. She had told me her blood pressure readings, and they were sky high, and for years I feared this high blood pressure would lead to a stroke for her too or possibly to her demise.
Finding out about her death was another matter. Olivia kept her friends rather compartmentalized and was careful about what she told each of us. She didn't like anyone in her business, and you learned over time which subjects were taboo and avoided them with her. Unlike most of her friends, I did not live in her neighborhood, and was not part of her daily life. Thus, I knew when her time came I would hear about it secondhand and a little late.
I believe the last time I saw Olivia was with my husband on May 17, 2009 because she sent me a picture she'd taken of him and dated it on the back. The picture makes me smile wryly, because it was taken by her when she was seated, shot through the arms of her walker. The summer of 2009 was a crazy one for me, because my mother fell and broke her hip, leading to a month in the hospital and three months in rehab for her, and lots of back and forth driving for me. It was a lot of stress for us both, and I was rather maxxed out. I was a poor friend to all of my friends, as my way of coping was to isolate myself and deal only with what I had to.
It was only after my mom came home at Thanksgiving and I began taking care of her that I was able to gather my thoughts and call Olivia (because she'd finally gotten a phone) whom my husband and I had not seen since summer. In fact, I had begun doing my Christmas shopping, and every year I sent Olivia something tasty and soft because she loved treats and did not have a lot of teeth left. I can remember sending her a rum-soaked butter cake, and ultra-soft tropical fruitcakes. Anyway, it was time to choose something for Olivia, and I knew I should call first. For one thing, she had been talking about putting herself in some kind of assisted situation so she may have moved. For another thing, I think I knew things were not good with her and that she might be gone.
I called her phone and got a recording that the number was disconnected.
Thankfully, months before, I had exchanged contact info with one of Olivia's neighbors whom I'll call Miriam. I had Miriam's phone number and called it. The conversation was confusing, because she thought I had already been alerted about Olivia's passing by another neighbor who had become Olivia's newest confidante, and who had been given my phone number. Thus, Miriam began telling me how Olivia died, never knowing that this was the first I'd heard of it.
It seems Olivia had had a stroke over the summer. She'd been to the hospital and then to a nursing home in the northeast section of Philadelphia. She did very well with rehab, and got stronger and better until she was sent home. Her care plan said she was entitled to home physical therapy and social worker visits, and that's where her recovery got unhinged, because she refused to allow these folks in. It would be just like Olivia to not want these people "in her business" and to staunchly believe she had the right to live as she chose without such personal interference, unable to see it would help her in the long run. She suffered another stroke, and ended up at Jefferson Hospital, where she passed away. I'm told her ultimate cause of death was a heart attack from which she could not recover.
The only solace to me is knowing that one friend and neighbor, a young woman studying to become a Christian counselor, was with Olivia the night before her passing, reading a segment of the Bible to Olivia from Song of Solomon, wherein the relationship of Jesus and his church is compared to that of a groom and bride. We, members of the church are the Bride, and Jesus is the Bridegroom. In chapter four the Bridegroom declares, "How beautiful you are, my darling, how beautiful you are!" He extolls others of her virtues and says "Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee." It's not just about the beauty - "fair" means clean of spirit allegorically. Though Olivia could not speak, I like to think she found peace in anticipating being found worthy after her passing.
Olivia died two days before I called and learned all this. If people who have passed away can influence what happens on earth, it would be just like Olivia to keep the news of her passing from me until I could deal with it, but not so long that I would miss the chance to pay my last respects to her. I am awaiting arrangement information as I write this. She had bought a plot for herself at Holy Cross cemetery in Yeadon to rest with her two husbands, and will probably be cremated.
Childless and secretive, Olivia's home, belongings and cat will be handled by some neighbors, and hopefully with respect. It's not my place to step in, though she once asked me to and I demurred. She didn't own much to speak of, but I worry for her cat, Callie, a calico, who was a backyard kitty Olivia had taken inside, and who never got accustomed to other people. Callie's going to have a big adjustment to make wherever life takes her next, and I hope she does well. I know Olivia had found it remarkable that Callie approached me when my husband and I visited, because she was a very wary cat, having lived most of her life as a feral urban kitty. Still, when I say Callie "approached me" I mean she came close or sniffed me, but never consented to petting or handling, not with me, and not even with Olivia whom she trusted as much as she could trust any human. I wonder who will have a place for such a cat, and hope that person has much patience and tolerance and is at peace with a cat who relates in a seemingly distant way.
Thank you for remembering the lovely soul that was Olivia. Please say a prayer for her, and for her cat Callie whose fate seems undetermined at this time. Olivia loved animals and all things natural, so any token you might leave relating to them would be lovely.
Update December 17, 2009: Olivia was laid to rest today. Her sister, who was in charge of arrangements, had made no provisions for a service. One of Olivia's neighbors and I met with the undertaker at the cemetery. I carried Olivia's ashes (in a humble wooden box) to the resting spot, and placed them on a pedestal in front of the gravedigger. On top, the funeral director laid the Saint Anthony of Padua medal I had brought. Olivia's neighbor had brought some lovely flowers, with Olivia's favorite candy bar tucked in the bouquet.
I read a section of the Bible that seemed written for our friend from the 25th chapter of Matthew.
I began "Inasmuch as Olivia had a loved husband in prison, and fed and sheltered homeless cats, one of whom was named Stranger, these words are fit for her-"
"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory.
Before him all the nations will be gathered, and he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.
He will set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.
Then the King will tell those on his right hand, 'Come, blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world;
for I was hungry, and you gave me food to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me drink; I was a stranger, and you took me in;
naked, and you clothed me; I was sick, and you visited me; I was in prison, and you came to me.'
"Then the righteous will answer him, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry, and feed you; or thirsty, and give you a drink?
When did we see you as a stranger, and take you in; or naked, and clothe you?
When did we see you sick, or in prison, and come to you?'
"The King will answer them, 'Most assuredly I tell you, inasmuch as you did it for one of the least of these my brothers, you did it for me.'
Then he will say also to those on the left hand, 'Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared for the devil and his angels;
for I was hungry, and you didn't give me food to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me no drink;
I was a stranger, and you didn't take me in; naked, and you didn't clothe me; sick, and in prison, and you didn't visit me.'
"Then they will also answer, saying, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry, or thirsty, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and didn't help you?'
"Then he will answer them, saying, 'Most assuredly I tell you, inasmuch as you didn't do it for one of the least of these, you didn't do it for me.'
These will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life."
The funeral director led us in the Lord's prayer and we left with heavy hearts. Shortly thereafter, I got stuck in a four hour traffic jam caused by a truck fire, and swear I heard Olivia giggling. Anyway...
I am not Catholic, but had come to know a bit about Saint Anthony of Padua and his love and respect for God's creatures. Some organization has sent me two such medals, attached to Novena prayer cards. The prayer reads:
"O Holy Saint Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and charity for His creatures, made you worthy, when on earth, to possess miraculous powers. Miracles waited on your word, which you were ever ready to speak for those in trouble or anxiety. Encouraged by this thought, I implore of you to obtain for me (state your request). The answer to my prayer may require a miracle, even so, you are the Saint of Miracles.
O gentle and loving Saint Anthony, whose heart was ever full of human sympathy, whisper my petition into the ears of the Sweet Infant Jesus, who loved to be folded in your arms; and the gratitude of my heart will ever be yours. Amen.
Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory be."
Update, January 2011: Apparently Olivia's home is finally being cleaned out. A neighbor helping sent me an envelope, and inside was an envelope Olivia had addressed to my husband and me, sealed. I opened it, and it was her Christmas card, apparently for the Christmas she didn't live to see. In it, she says she was sorry to have missed us when we were in town, and hopes we can see each other over the holidays. It felt like she'd reached across the heavens to say goodbye one more time.
Remember, if you'd like to meet the lucky souls (furry and non-furry) who were loved by Olivia, you can visit Olivia's family.
