Charlene Patricia (Fulton) Collora

Charlene was born in Portland, Oregon, on July 7, 1948. She died at home in Seattle surrounded by her family on June 10, 2016, after a valiant battle against stomach cancer. Charlene was the second oldest of ten children born to Pat and Betty Fulton. She was the granddaughter of Harriet Lynch Biner, William Henry Biner, Clara Hobson Fulton and Charles Parker Fulton.

Char attended St. Mary’s Academy in Portland for high school, then joined the Jesuit Volunteer Corps which led her up to St. Mary’s, Alaska, where she ran the school library, and met her future husband, Charlie. Charlene and Charlie were married in the summer of 1971. They moved first to Portland, then Tacoma, eventually landing in Seattle as founding members of the Round Table Community, a group of former Jesuit Volunteers who continued to live together in community. They raised their five children on Capitol Hill, where they were members of St. Joseph’s parish.

In 1982, Charlene was pivotal as the home office liaison for the Bethlehem Peace Pilgrimage, a 6,500 mile walk through eleven countries as a prayer for peace. Charlene held the role of Pastoral Coordinator at Our Lady of Mt. Virgin in South Seattle for 22 years before retiring. She returned to finish her bachelor’s degree at Seattle University after her kids were grown, then continued on to earn her master’s degree in Religious Studies and to become a certified Spiritual Director. In retirement, she worked for the Ignatian Spirituality Center and found great satisfaction as a marriage preparation counselor at St. Anne’s Catholic Church. Her commitment to Native American social justice causes had led her to many years of volunteering at the Chief Seattle Club.

She loved traveling with Charlie, spending time at Hood Canal with her family, reading books, and truly enjoying life to the fullest. One of her most cherished roles was being the beloved Nana to her four young grandchildren. They already miss her and the chocolate chip pancakes that Nana made best.

Charlene is survived by her husband of 45 years, Charlie, her children Andrew (Melissa), Alicia (Brian), Nicole (John), Mariette, and Jeanne, her grandchildren Noah, Balin, Nina, and Caroline, her siblings Will (Diane), Chuckie, Mary (Chuck), Leslie (Bill), Joe (Debra), Dan (Beth), Bob (Lauren), and Fred (Rose); sister-in-law Jenn (widow of brother Tom); brother-in-law Peter Collora, sisters-in-law Jeanette Collora and Leslie Childs, mother-in-law Isabelle Collora and numerous nieces and nephews who worshiped their loving Aunt Char. She was preceded in death by her parents C.P. and Betty Fulton, her youngest brother, Tom, and father-in-law Peter Collora.

Her funeral mass was celebrated before a packed audience of family, friends and admirers on Saturday, June 18th at St. Anne’s Church. Rev. Tom West presided. Eulogies were delivered by Char's brother Will, friend Pam Piering and daughters Jeanne and Alicia. Pam's eulogy is reprinted below and the others follow, along with some post-funeral reflections. At the reception following the funeral mass the Chief Seattle Club presented Charlie with a ceremonial blanket in honor of Charlene's work on behalf of Native Americans. A representative of the organization sang a mournful song that left most observers in tears. Suffice to say that Charlene will be deeply missed.

Charlene Collora Memorial
Comments by Pam Piering
June 18, 2016

“It is around a table that friends best perceive the warmth of being together.” These words frame my forty-year friendship with Charlene Collora.

I first met Charlene in 1970 in Copper Valley Alaska. She and Charlie were returning to the native school at St. Mary’s, Alaska for a second year as Jesuit Volunteers. What a pair, they were fun, engaging and welcoming to me as a new recruit. Following Char and Charlie’s lead, we celebrated the Alaskan spirit, the hopes of contributing to under-served communities and the knowledge that we were going to be changed in the process. And we all were! One year later, Charlie and Charlene were married by our friend Fr. Jack Morris.

In 1973 a group of former Jesuit Volunteers came to form a new community – the Roundtable Community -- in Seattle. Seven former Jesuit Volunteers (including Tom West) joined with Charlie and Charlene to live together guided by the values of community, simplicity, non-violence, prayer and social justice. With Jack Morris and Denny Duffell as our initial conveners, and anchored by the Collora family, the Roundtable flourished over the next 10 years. I lived there seven wonderful years, and as the Collora children came along, we all agreed that kids keep you grounded with life. Tom West and I were there the night Andy took his first steps! At the center of this lively home was Charlene, who graciously made everyone feel welcome, including the new Jesuit Volunteers who came to Seattle each year. She had a way of being present to each person – all while being a loving parent to her growing family. Char and Charlie were generous: they could whip up a tasty meal, host a full wedding party or take in a stranger (often referred by Jack) with ease – and sometimes all at the same time!

At the Roundtable we had a home Mass every Thursday, and Char coordinated the pot luck meal. We recruited priests from all over, and Charlie and Mike Janecke played guitar. Soon the living room each Thursday overflowed with Catholic Workers from down the street, other activists, ex-Catholics, families with young kids, and former Jesuit Volunteers (many of whom are here today). It was our way of being a faith community, and Charlene was the constant presence to us all. We sang, “Come on people now, smile on your sister, everybody get together and try to love one another right now.”

In 1977, I met Don Hopps at one of the Thursday liturgies (he brought the red pot with beans) and we married in 1980. Though Char and I were busy raising our families we stayed connected. Each year for the past 30 years, she organized a “women’s camp” weekend. Six or seven of us, including her sisters Mary and Leslie, would come to a cottage at a beach or lake for peace and the enjoyment of each other’s presence. Just last summer, even though Char was experiencing fatigue and treatment side effects, she insisted that we all go. She loved the simple things: roadside farm stands, garage sales, garden flowers, a good book, a glass of wine and deep conversations.

Char was an excellent listener. She was genuinely interested in people and she rarely jumped in with direct advice. In my conversations with her she would ask questions and express her personal support, and by the end somehow I had greater clarity. In her understated way, she brought out my best self. It is no surprise to me that she chose the career of pastoral coordinator and spiritual director – she had special gifts for this work.

When I think of Charlene, I think of the moon. She had a luminescence in her presence, a calm, reflective beauty. She had a deep abiding faith that centered her, and she didn’t need to be in the full spotlight. She gently influenced others much as the moon pulls the tides. And so, though she has passed on to eternal life, her spirit and influence remain. We take comfort in the ways that Char continues to be with us: in the smile of a grandchild, in the presence of unspoken beauty, and in the fullness of our hearts on a moonlit night.

From Char’s daughter Jeanne:

On the night my mom died, I was standing in the hallway outside of the bedroom with my dad, Marzi and Uncle Fred. We were comforting each other when I knocked my head on this little plaque hanging on the wall. I looked up, and it said, "There is always, always, always something to be thankful for." And that is my mom. She's completely right. And so today, I give MY thanks, to her.

Mom, thank you.

Thank you for being the quiet and fierce leader of our pack. Your moral compass guides us in every way, and came ever so naturally to you.

Thank you for your laughter. It had magical powers. There really was nothing like it.

Thank you for teaching me the power of being kind. I will always fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. The healing power of helping others is very real. You showed me this.

Thank you for trusting me, and teaching me to trust myself. You encouraged me to explore and love without a speckle of doubt.

Thank you for being my protector, along with dad, and creating a safe, nurturing and beautifully loving family and home to always come back to.

I will always, ALWAYS miss you.

I love you so very much. I will think of you every day, and I will always be grateful that I knew you.

From Char's daughter Marzi:

It will be OK. It will be OK. My whole life my mom had this magical way of making me feel like those four words were absolutely true. Like there was no chance that things wouldn't work out just as they should. Like she knew what the future held, and in that future my fears and sadness ceased to exist. And I believed her, always. I felt safe with her, always. My mom was my angel. I never had to wonder if she would be there for me. She just was. If I needed a hug, a laugh, some advice, she was there. She provided me the kind of comfort no one else on this planet could offer. She let me fall apart when I needed to. Took care of me when I couldn't take care of myself. Believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. And it would be OK. Because she said so.

Mom, thank you for teaching me to always give people the benefit of the doubt. The homeless man on the street, or the unkind stranger. Thank you for teaching me to always see the bright side of things. That life has endless possibilities, to dream big. Thank you for reminding me to keep my spark for life well-lit. Thank you for teaching me generosity. If I can be half as generous and open-hearted as you were, one day, I consider myself lucky.

Thank you for allowing me the honor of taking care of you in the last part of your life. You were the strongest and bravest woman I know. You fought a battle no one should ever have to fight, and you did so with grace and humility. Even in some of your darkest hours, you held my hand tight and reminded me that it would be OK.

I have no idea how I will move forward without you, but I will cherish you every day. Your heart, your spirit, your beauty, your laughter. You will always live on through our loving family that you created. I'm still hoping my childhood dream comes true - that one day you and I will eat lunch together every day.

I love you mom. I will miss you forever.

From Char's daughter Alicia:

MOMMA 6/18/16
By Alicia Collora Meza

Dear God, Why did you have to take one of the good moms? Couldn’t you have taken a mom that no one would miss? These are the juvenile thoughts that ran through my head the last days of mom’s life. This was the little kid in me that was so angry that this was happening. Why me? Why my mom? Char might have asked this once or twice privately in her head but then again, it’s more likely she didn’t. She had such grace in her last months. She was miserable, but she barely let on. She was so grateful to the very end. And at the very end, I was so grateful too.
Some of you have already lost a parent. Maybe it was after a full life of memories. Maybe it was way too soon and tragic. Maybe you lost them so young you never knew them. No matter what the circumstance it’s painful to say goodbye and there is a huge void leftover. I was still the kid and my mom was still my mom at 41 and 67. I know I was lucky to have her as long as I did. I know she made the most of her time here with us.
There is a blog I follow, called Momastery, where the author writes eloquently about love and life and the hard stuff we all face. She wrote a letter to her own mom and I will share a small excerpt here:
“NOTHING, not fear, not fatigue, not deep, deep despair can keep us from showing up for our people. Love often means doing the hardest thing, the impossible thing, we understand. There is always something more important than your feelings and that is your family.” She goes on to say to her mom:
“You taught us that what matters is LOVE, and that love is relentlessly showing up for your people.”
Here’s the thing about Char. The thing that made her so incredibly irreplaceable to me. She consistently and relentlessly showed up for me and MANY of you sitting here today- her whole life. That’s just who she was and what she did. So today, I want to share with you, the ways my mom relentlessly showed up for me in my life.
1. Mom made me feel so special on all my birthdays. I could pick the dinner, the kind of cake out of fun cake shape book: what do you want this year? A bunny? A bear? A butterfly? She would clean my bedroom, (which was always needed) while I was at school and leave flowers on my dresser. She never forgot a birthday or an anniversary and always had gifts for you and a card that ended with Love Mom, XOXO.
2. My first big break up and heart ache with a boy happened when I was 19. I remember going home to my parents one afternoon from school and curling up on the bed with mom and dad and crying like a baby. This was not a normal occurrence, I often sorted through my emotions with friends or on my own. But that particular day I was broken and lonely and nobody could help me but mom.
3. Mom showed up for support whenever us kids wanted to go somewhere. “GO!” she’d say, go away for college, you’ll have a great time. Go move to another city. Go travel abroad to Italy, Spain, Australia, Indonesia. Go, and we’ll meet you there! And she did. Mom and dad made it to Spain to visit Nicole, to Italy to visit Jeanne and to South Carolina to visit me during my year of service with Americorps, to California to visit Andy, Mariette or Jeanne when they lived there.
4. When I had my first newborn, Noah- the labor was long and hard and mom was there. I wasn’t sure if I wanted her there before I went into labor, but she showed up anyway. “I’ll just be outside the room, in case you need ANYTHING” she told me. I had no idea the feeling of relief I would experience when I got the hospital and she was already there. She just knew, she knew before I did that she should be there. She was a quiet steady presence for me during the entire not so easy labor. A warm hand on my shoulder. An encouraging: “you can do this”. And full on tears of joy when the baby finally arrived. My mom was crazy about babies.
5. When I brought that sweet newborn home, I was a total wreck. This phase was not easy for me even though I so desperately wanted it to be and thought it would be, as Char’s daughter. I was home one morning after Meza had gone back to work and, Noah was probably 1 month old. Neither the baby nor I had slept more than a few hours the night before or for weeks really. I was exhausted, Noah was exhausted and we were both crying hysterically- mother and child. I called my mom. I barely finished my sentence of how I couldn’t get the baby to sleep and she said, I’m on my way. Even though it was a work day for her, she sped over to my house. She took Noah out of my arms like a professional, she rocked that baby and held him tight and got him to sleep. Of course, I didn’t know that until later, because first she put me to sleep in my bed, without the baby. She was an absolute baby whisperer. And she just simply showed up and saved me that day and MANY, MANY others that first year of motherhood.
6. She continued to show up as my kids got older. She and dad have watched the boys every Wednesday for going on 11 years since Noah was born. She also was a HUGE, dedicated fan to my boys’ sporting events and school functions. Sometimes I’d say, well mom, Noah and Balin have a baseball game for the 2nd or 3rd time this week (thinking, they’d probably had their fill) and mom would always say, I know, it’s on the calendar! We’ll be there, wouldn’t miss it. And she didn’t. She showed up to nearly every baseball, soccer and basketball game my kids ever played. And not only that, but she would nearly WITHOUT fail, pack a snack for after the game. Nana’s snack shack was always open and stocked. She showed up to every school concert and birthday party and ANYTHING that was involving her grandkids. I know this was the same for Nina and Caroline. Nana ALWAYS showed up. She wouldn’t miss it.
That’s how mom has showed up for me. How about how she has showed up for the rest of you?
In the 70s and 80s we lived in a community called the ROUNDTABLE in the big house on Capitol Hill, many of the roundtable family members are here today. It was in this house where we learned all about family and community and welcoming people in. Mom invited everyone in. There was always another plate, another chair, enough food. I don’t think mom and dad knew how to cook for less than 10 people, at any one time, there were ALWAYS left overs. Because they knew- someone else might stop by. So come on in and grab a plate.
The shape of the roundtable changed over the years: originally it was my parents and Jesuit Volunteer Corps alums, then in later years we also had extended family of mom and dad’s staying for months and sometimes years. Sometimes it was just a friend who needed a place to stay for awhile. We had people living in the attic eaves of the 3 story house and in the basement back storage area under the porch. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, there was a long list of exchange students we hosted over the years from all over: Japan, Spain, Mexico, Germany and Italy. The 722 house was a refuge. There was always room, PLEASE… come stay... we have room. She had a way of making you feel like you were never a burden.
As the Collora family grew, the roundtable members left to start their own families. But the welcome mat was always out. During holidays we’d get really used to having extra guests celebrate with us. Sometimes it was a call from Fr. Jack Morris, who knew someone who just needed a place to stay or be for the holidays. We, as kids, started calling them Extra Terrestrials, or ETs for short. “Mom, who are the E.T.s coming for Christmas this year?” To us kids, you were outsiders, but to mom, you were family. You were always welcome to stay and have a family to be with if you didn’t have one. Just show up.
Char showed up for the Our Lady of Mt. Virgin community for over two decades. She had a community of dear friends there who were fellow parishoners, many of whom are here today. For years mom showed up to St. Martin de Porres making sandwiches for the poor. Mom showed up to the Chief Seattle Club to spend time visiting with the Native Americans to provide spiritual support to those in need. And these are just the things I remember watching mom growing up. I know there are many more places she showed up, wherever she felt called.
Char showed up when her own mom was facing her final days of life, back in 2009. She and many of her siblings stayed by Granny Boop’s bedside for weeks after she came home from the hospital. Visiting, caring for her, cooking meals, sleeping beside her, comforting her to the very last minute. I remember thinking to myself during those days: if I am ever on my deathbed being so carefully tended to and loved by my own kids- I will be a success. Is there anything better in life than to be surrounded by that kind of love?
So then, the time came for me to be the caretaker of my mom much sooner than I thought. And when it was MY turn, I knew just what to do. My dad, my sisters, my brother and mom’s siblings all knew what to do: we all just showed up. We cooked and cleaned and loved her as much as we possibly could those last weeks because mom taught us what to do. Get there, be helpful. Be present. Surround your people with love.
We asked mom a lot in the last year, where do you want to go and who do you want to see? What do you want to do if we know the end is near? She never had a great answer. We were begging for her bucket list- should we go to Italy for the summer? A family trip to Ireland? No, nothing she said. She just wanted to stay close to home and close to family. This answer didn’t waiver at all this past year.
Then I read an article in the New York Times by David Brooks about something he called a moral bucket list and mom’s lack of a conventional bucket list started to make sense. He describes how “there are two sets of virtues, the résumé virtues and the eulogy virtues. The résumé virtues are the skills you bring to the marketplace. The eulogy virtues are the ones that are talked about at your funeral — whether you were kind, brave, honest or faithful. Were you capable of deep love? He explains that people with a solid moral compass do not find their vocations by asking, what do I want from life? They ask, what is life asking of me? How can I match my intrinsic talent with one of the world’s deep needs?
I think when we asked mom about her bucket list items, she knew she’d already fulfilled them. But it was a moral bucket list she had fulfilled. She felt satisfied on some level but lacked the words to explain it to us. Satisfied that she’d already committed to the lifelong mission of helping others and being present. Satisfied that she kept doing God’s work relentlessly and never asked for accolades or anything in return. She quietly kept volunteering, offering food or shelter or a hug. By her actions and not with words, she left me with this: Connect with people. Be compassionate. Know when you are needed. Find a way to help. And just keep showing up.


And finally, here are some memories of Charlene, from her eight surviving siblings:

Will:

When Charlene was born, July 7, 1948, we could not put our telephone in our pockets. It was too big and it was attached to the wall. We shared our line with other people, who might be talking on it when we picked up the receiver, or might pick up their receivers while we were talking on it.
We couldn’t watch videos on our phone, either. We had to go to a theatre to watch a moving picture. No television at home. We listened to programs on the radio.
We heated our home by burning coal. The coal was delivered via truck and chute to our basement, where it formed a black hill too tempting to resist climbing upon, much to our mother’s dismay.
We didn’t have a car, but we got to ride trolleys. Milk was delivered to our door, as was bread (and sometimes maple bars or chocolate cupcakes). When Charlene had an allergic reaction to sardines (age 3), and turned red and swelled up and scared us all, Dr. Hutchinson came to our house. Healthcare was another thing that got delivered to the door in those days.
When she was just 9 years old, Char got her first job. Farm laborer. She got up every morning before dawn and caught a bus to the fields, where she would spend the day picking berries. She earned 25 cents a crate. She could pick 8 to 12 crates a day. It was hard work for anyone, let alone a 9 year old, but she did it with joy.
In the fields she could listen to her songs on transistor radios (like her favorite: “All I Have to Do Is Dream” by the Everly Brothers https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbU3zdAgiX8 ), sample the berries, and make new friends, like her first boyfriend, Bobby Latimer.
When she got home from berry picking she would change her clothes and walk up to Mt. Scott Park to go swimming with her brothers and her berry picking friends (Bobby Latimer).
At the end of her first season, she took the money she had saved and bought a blue, girls bicycle from Sears and Roebuck for $33.33. She worked in the fields every summer until she was 16 or 17.

Chuck:

Teen-aged Charlene always had a lot of boys chasing after her. I don't know how an innocent young lady like herself was able to juggle her many admirers & keep them in line.
One of her boyfriends was named Ahmed. He was from Iran. He was a very rich Iranian foreign student. He always had bags full of red-dyed pistachios with him. He taught me my first driving lessons. He would sit in the back seat cuddling with Charlene while I crawled down Marine Drive in Portland at 5 miles an hour. We had a lot of very angry drivers pass us & honk…or flip us off. Ahmed said not to let them bother me as he settled back into the backseat with my big sister.
Charlene also juggled boyfriends Frankie, Ronnie, Carl, Richard, Hughie, Dewey & Louis.
She always wore her innocent sweet smile. Then she met a guy in Alaska named Charlie.

Mary:

I was 11 or 12, Char was probably 15 or 16. I was riding my bike up to our house and saw Char in the front seat of a car — parked in front of the house. She was kissing Johnny Markell! I was shocked! I never told Mom or told Char I saw her kissing her boyfriend!
Char always had plenty of boys interested in her, she had a twinkle in her eyes and the sweetest, honestly innocent smile. I don’t know if she realized her charming power over guys.
By the time Char met Charlie — at the ripe old age of 21 — she had been proposed to 3 times and was engaged to the handsome neighbor down the street. But then she met Charlie as a JVC in Alaska — and she broke off her engagement. # 4 was the magic number. Thank you Charlie — 45 years of marriage with the true love of her life.

Leslie:

It's hard to just put down one memory of my big sister. The ones that come to me are the ones of her being a big sister! Comforting me, taking care of me, loving me. I remember once, when I was 3 or 4, being upset, so she made me a nest in the roll top desk.
I remember her babysitting us when we were little. I remember going to Lloyd Center with her, and sometimes with Bobbi Linehan too, and we'd end our trip with Char buying us hot fudge sundaes at the Woolworths' counter. Many fond, loving memories.
But my happiest memories are as adults, when besides being a big sister, she was my friend. I was so blessed to have her living around the corner. We could get together anytime we wanted. Friends, with the forever love of sisters.

Joe:

Charlene never seemed to be a kid to me. She was just six years older than me but I thought of her as an adult. She carried herself in such a way that I looked up to her almost like a second mother. And that is why I was so surprised when Will and Chuck would pick on her. I thought that making fun of Char must be what the priests were talking about when they referred to mortal sins.
Here are two such mortal sins. When I was about four years old, Mom and Dad were out of the house and Char was babysitting the little ones like me. But she made the mistake of telling Will what to do and he responded by picking her up and stuffing her on a high shelf in a closet. I thought Will must be an evil Superman to be able to do that.
Sometime later we were all eating Dad’s popcorn and watching TV in the den and Char was laying on the floor in her nightgown. Chuck grabbed the end of her gown and made it wave while he made a farting sound. I couldn’t laugh because I was too horrified. I knew Chuck farted a lot, but I was pretty sure Charlene never did.
My big sister was that kind of saint to me.

Dan:

I have an enduring memory (sorry Charlie) of a seemingly endless string of suitors showing up at the house on 16th seeking big sister Char. I can even remember some of their names, Ronnie, Carl, Bob. And even one of their cars, a VW Bug. We were sometimes allowed (or perhaps required?) to accompany Charlene on some of her dates, at least once I even got to drive to the beach with her and got my first taste of Salt Water Taffy. Inevitably Charlene would end up breaking these young suitors’ hearts. A week ago, as if to prove that she still "had it", she did it one last time, shattering the collective hearts of us all.

Bob:

My first time swimming in anything more than a plastic wading pool was on a rare family outing to the beach at Blue Lake Park in Fairview, Oregon. I was in kindergarten. It was a wonderful experience until I found myself venturing out farther than a five year old should. As the water level neared my mouth and panic set in, I was lifted to safety by Charlene. She was smiling. I realized she had been watching over me the entire time.
That was Charlene. My big Sister. Always there for me. I cherish the time we spent together and I miss her terribly.

Fred:

Dearest Charlene,

My earliest memories include you having me hold a badminton racket like a guitar and strum it while imitating the Beatle’s singing “I want to hold your hand”, I think I may have even had a wig of some sort on. I remember you smiling and laughing.

Tommy and I shared the den in Mom and Dad’s room. Tommy slept in a crib. I remember sneaking out of my bed, probably after wetting it and crawling past Mom and Dad’s bed on my stomach like men I’d seen on TV, once safely in the hall I would get up and walk to your room and sleep with you. I remember you had your own phone and you would be up all hours chatting with a boyfriend. I remember picking up the phone once after you went to sleep and laughing at snoring on the other end, you woke up and laughed with me.

I remember when you started bringing Fr. Jack home for dinner. He and I would wrestle until I cried uncle, but usually after I cried it a third or fourth time. He would let me up only to have me attack him again immediately. Thanks for bringing Jack into my life.

I remember your green and blue room. It seemed like Dad worked on that room for months to paint it just perfect for you. He sure loved you. I remember I was put in that room to recuperate after I had my ruptured spleen removed, it was closer to a bathroom and Mom and Dad. I remember you calling me from Alaska to see how I was while I lay in your room. I was so happy to talk to you long distance.

Then came Charlie and so many happy memories to follow: Your forest wedding; your apartment near Laurelhurst Park; your huge yard in Tacoma; me and Tommy taking the train up to Tacoma after baby Andy was born; the first house in Seattle near 16th and Union, and finally 722 18th Ave. East and the Roundtable Community. So many memories there.

All the members of the house and all your wonderful and beautiful daughters, Alicia, Nicole, Mariette and Jeanne, and of course your lone boy Andy. I waited so impatiently for the next boy Freddy that never came.

I remember the camping trip to Canada with you and Charlie, and Andy, and cousin Mary and Jeanette.
The trip to Southern California to visit the Biner’s and Nana and then the long drive home, camping along the way and San Francisco.

I remember the time you and Charlie, Andy, Alicia and Nicole visited me in Cardiff. I remember the times you and Mom would visit the Oregon coast at Yachats. I remember you going back to school to get your Master’s degree. I was so proud of you.

More recently I remember you and Mom picking me up at SeaTac and waiting with me for Rose’s plane to land. I remember you meeting and loving Rose.

Chuckie’s 60th surprise birthday dinner with Mom in San Francisco was so fun being together with you and Charlie, Mary and Dink, Leslie and Rosie, and Dave Bernazani. Walking through Chinatown with Mom, eating, drinking and shopping.

I remember you calling me when I was in San Diego, Mom was sick, you were crying and scared, I flew up and we spent the next six weeks near her along with so many loving family members. It was a difficult time, full of love and sadness.

You and Charlie made a couple of trips to San Diego and Los Angeles to visit while Jeanne, Andrew, Melissa, Rose and I were living down there. We had such great times.

I remember when Rose and I moved to Vancouver and you and Charlie, Mary and Chuck came to help us settle in.

I remember you and Charlie taking the train down with Noah and Balin. The Magic shop.

Aunt Fritzi’s 80th and Uncle Bob’s 90th.

Hood Canal. So many times. I remember the time in October 2014 when you told Rosie and I the dreadful news of your cancer diagnosis.

Of course some of our best memories were yet to come. The trip we made together to Cancun in the spring in 2015 will be forever with Charlie and Rosie and myself. The pool, the ocean, the sun, the food and drink. Joya. You and Rosie shopping, “no monkey business”. Tulum. Food and more drink. More shopping. Playa del Carmen. Isla Mujeres. The boat trip. The colors. The golf cart.

I remember you getting so thin, so weak, so uncomfortable in the last few months. I remember your family converging on Seattle. Your Charlie, Andrew, Alicia, Nicole, Mariette and Jeanne trying so hard to make you comfortable. I remember kissing you goodbye. I will always remember how happy I was to be in your presence. You lit up a room with your grace, smile and laughter. I will miss you for the rest of my days.

Thank you for being such a huge part of my life. I love you more than I can put into words. Rest in peace sweet Charlene.