Kahtia passed away last week. Her death was sudden, unexpected, still unexplained. Her husband found her lying in bed, unresponsive, when he came home from work. He called 911. EMTs came but did not try to revive her with Narcan. Her husband believes that she died from complications of chronic respiratory challenges. Some people who knew her believe she died of an (unintentional) overdose. As far as I know there was no autopsy. She was cremated last week.

I’ve spent much of the past week looking back at my notes of conversations that I’ve had with Kahtia over the years. One of the first times we met she told me, “All I ever wanted was a family, a husband and my children, a house with a white picket fence and a dog in the back and a cat on the window sill.”

She never got the house or the white picket fence, but she did build a family – at least for a time. Kahtia loved being a caregiver. In the time I’ve known her she’s had cats, dogs, goldfish, birds and even a ferret. She’s mothered her young children, welcomed older children back into her life, and cared for a long line of friends and other young people in need of a place to live, a listening ear, a kind word, a good meal.  I have seen her give cigarettes to every stranger on the street who asks her.  She loved to cook and to feed others. Over the years many a friend, acquaintance and even stranger has come to Kahtia’s door for a meal.

Kahtia’s heart gave her the desire to care for people. But her brains made it possible for her to do so. She never had much money but she was brilliant at piecing resources together. WIC, food stamps, Salvation Army, a bit of money from her uncle.

Neither her big heart nor her resourcefulness, however, were sufficient for her to be able to raise her children the way she wanted to. The day before she died she told me how frustrated she had become with DCF. Despite her consistent attendance at all required programs, meetings and urine tests, her parental rights were terminated. She filed an appeal for an open adoption so that her children could have some contact with her — at least enough to know that she had not deserted them. At the time of her death the appeal was still going through the system and she had not been allowed to speak with the children since November.

Kahtia was a woman of many talents. She wrote poetry and created art. And she loved the color purple!
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On a daily basis, from the time that she herself was a child, she had to figure out how to survive and help her family survive. In different circumstances, with some better breaks in life, I have no doubt that Kahtia would have been the president of a corporation, a lawyer, perhaps a celebrity chef or a mayor.

Since news of her death came out, I’ve noticed how many people describe Kahtia as their best friend. I don’t think this is hyperbole. Kahtia never saw herself as worth more than anyone else. But neither did she see herself as worth less. Even when she was the most down and out she had something to give.

The world has lost a truly special person. Kahtia, I will never forget you.

You can read more about Kahtia here Like the Girls Who Hides a Razor Blade in Her Mouth and here Babes from Their Parents’ Arms as well as in Updates on Women of Can’t Catch a Break.