In memoriam
Katie Talmage Homan
April 19, 1965 September 3, 2009
By Elin Swanson Katz
Thank God for the alphabet. Thanks to the alphabet and my last name Swanson ` I was assigned a locker just two away from Katie Talmage in 1979 when we were both freshmen at Bethlehem Central High School. Happily, the school maintained its alphabetical order assignment policy for all four years of high school because it took Katie and me almost a year to actually talk to each other. Once we hit sophomore year, however, we never stopped talking, as Tim Talmage, the poor kid stuck with the locker between us, can attest.
People often complain about how awful high school was. I guess I’m lucky, because I had a really good time in high school, thanks in large part to Katie. Katie was my buddy, my partner-in-crime, my confidante, and my best friend. Together we navigated all of the highs and lows of high school: too much homework, not enough dates, crazy teachers, bonfire parties, football games, football players, driver’s tests, rock concerts, big brothers, little sisters, curfews, unreasonable parents, junior prom, college hunting, senior prom, after prom, graduation, boys the list is endless. Every step of the way, Katie was there with me. In the days before cell phones, we tied up our parents’ phone lines for hours on end, dissecting every important event in our day ` which back then was pretty much every event.
What I remember most was laughing ` well, giggling. More than once we took the bus from Delmar to Colonie Center, which was a good hour trip, complete with a transfer in downtown Albany, whispering and giggling all the way. So you know those annoying teenage girls sitting behind you, making you wonder if your hair is sticking up or something? That was us. But we weren’t laughing at you, honestly. We were just ` laughing. We laughed our way through high school, and Katie’s silly, quirky sense of humor led the way. She kept me from taking myself too seriously.
We both had the same lunch period during senior year, and one of our favorite things to do was to jump into whichever car we had ` for me, it was the family station wagon; for Katie, it was a big blue bomber of a sedan ` and drive at breakneck speed (although never over the speed limit, of course) to McDonald’s for french fries, chicken nuggets, and Diet Coke. We had just enough time to drive there, get our food, and drive back ramming in fries and nuggets as we drove. One time we made a detour to Friendly’s for milkshakes, and for reasons I cannot possibly remember, we went to the takeout counter and with high, squeaky voices said together, `We’d like a chocolate Fribble` `And two straws!` And in the way of nonsensical high school habits, for the rest of the year, `Two straws!` became our rallying cry.
I would like to just tell you stories for the next few hours, and avoid the reason that I am writing this. I much prefer to stay with Katie in those wondrous years when we were growing up and discovering the world than to think about how our story ends. We graduated, went to college, wrote each other long letters and spent our vacations together. Katie made a few road trips to visit me at college, and we stayed in touch after that graduation, too. Katie became Kate, and over the years, we drifted apart geographically, though we stayed in touch somewhat. I could always count on a card on my birthday, and not just a `Love, Katie` card but one written all over on below the greeting, on the inside cover, on the back, and often onto another sheet tucked inside with news of her life and questions about mine. In recent years, I lived in Connecticut and she lived in Virginia. With husbands, kids and jobs we didn’t have much time to talk on the phone or visit each other. Once her parents retired down south and sold their house in Delmar, we didn’t have hometown visits at Thanksgiving or Christmas to get together. By the time we met up at our 20th high school reunion in 2003, it had been a while since we’d seen each other, and I wouldn’t see Katie again for six more years.
I flew down to visit Katie in July, just a few weeks ago. By then she knew that she was dying and had made peace with it. I, on the other hand, had not. I drove up to her house and sat in my rental car with my heart pounding. What was I going to say? What was she going to say? Selfishly I worried, how was I going to survive saying good-by to this incredible person I’d know most of my life?
Silly me. I shouldn’t have worried. Kate was completely Katie. I walked in and steeled myself for how thin she’d become ` I knew because I’d seen pictures. But as soon as I saw her face, I knew. She had that same twinkle in her eye, and the same toothy smile. Sure the packaging may have shrunk a little and she may go by Kate now, but that was my Katie sitting there.
I’d been warned that her stamina was poor and that we’d probably only have about 20 minutes together. We ended up talking for the better part of three hours, till I had to leave for the airport. I brought our high school yearbook and we pored over it, reading what she had written ` which went on for pages ` and trying to remember all the little things she had written about. Does anybody, for example, remember `Le Chateaux` from 1983? We couldn’t.
We didn’t just reminisce. We were also best friends again for those three hours, telling each other the story of our lives today. It was one of the greatest days of my life. My eyes fill up whenever I think about it, even as I write this. Katie talked a lot about her battle with cancer. She fought a good fight against breast cancer, twice, and won, but in October 2008 she was diagnosed with squamous cell carcinoma, a cancer in her lungs. She said she knew when she was diagnosed that this would be the last cancer she ever had. Still, she kicked hard, struggled through disabling treatments, buying more time. Finally there was no more time left for her to buy. She had accepted that she was going to die, because as she said, `What choice do I have, Elin?`
She worried most about leaving behind her four children, Emma, Leah, Frances, and Jesse, ages 10 through 3. She felt her purpose in life had been to bring these four sweet souls into the world. She worried about her husband, John, too, and her family, and the pain she was causing them by leaving. She knew that she would be watching over them from heaven, she said, with a certainty I envied. We even talked ` actually laughed ` about her funeral. Her church apparently has a rock music service which she detested. `I don’t want anyone playing the drums at my funeral,` she said. Still, she wanted it to be a celebration of her life, not a sad event. I looked at her skeptically on that one. `Don’t you think after all this,` I asked, `we deserve a good cry?` She also mused about how they would pick the people to speak at the memorial service. `Do you think we should hold auditions?` she asked. See, she was still Katie.
Katie Talmage Homan, 44, died peacefully in her home on Thursday, Sept. 3. She left behind a husband she adored, four beautiful children, a loving family, a myriad of friends, and a trail of happy memories that stretches all the way to her new home in heaven. Rest in peace, my dear friend. I hope they have chocolate Fribbles in heaven ` with two straws.
Elin Swanson Katz lives in West Hartford, Connecticut. She invites you to read Katie’s blog at ktscoop.blogspot.com to learn about her incredible journey with cancer. With friends, Elin is planning an informal `let’s tell Katie stories` memorial over Christmas vacation. Contact her at [email protected] for more information.
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