My Chosen Godmother
I call her my godmother but she didn’t hold me as a baby while a priest blessed me. There’s just no better term that I’m familiar with to explain who she is to me. So, almost 10 years ago, I asked Kathy to be my godmother (with all due respect to the one my parents chose for me in 1982) and Kathy immediately said yes—makes sense, because she’d been assuming the role for a while and will be forever.
I met Kathy’s oldest son when I was in 7th grade. He was one of the cool, older boys that was friends with my temporary best friend’s older brother. We hung out in similar circles throughout junior high and high school, peripherally acquainted. After I graduated college and moved back to New York, he and I started hanging out a lot. I met his mom and his younger brother. The bond those three have… it’s hard to put words to. They are love. They are family. And they scoop you right into the family.
I’ve spent many, many hours sitting at their kitchen table. We have inside jokes that have been running for almost two decades, clipped from little moments of joy, often with cards or Scrabble tiles in our hands.
When I was betrayed by a “friend,” I ran to her. When my heart was stomped on, I leaned on her. And I know there are dozens of people who can share similar stories about Kathy. As special as she makes me feel, I’m not “special”—she cares for everyone she meets this deeply. Just don’t do wrong by one of her sons!
Last night, we sat around that white and light wood kitchen table and laughed until our bellies hurt. That’s pretty much a guarantee when we get together. Outside of my immediate blood-related family, I can’t think of any other people as loving and loyal as Kathy and her sons. I’m glad they inherited that from her. I’m grateful for all of the love she continues to pour into our connection and, of course, to the universe for sending my godmother (and her family) to me.
Who’s your Kathy? Call her/him today or connect with them in some way. Share your gratitude. Much love.