Karin

Dear Michelle,

The world lost a real one on New Year's Day.  My God.  Your mom was amazing.  So amazing.  She wasn't one in a million.  She was like one in ten million.  

The night after she passed away, I layed in bed until 3AM, replaying our childhood.  Year after year after year.  Remembering Karin's part in so many memories.  I'm so grateful I had the opportunity to know her.  To experience her love.  And to have those memories to cherish for the rest of my life.  

So many of my memories are full of hysterical laughter, our juvenile antics, and her hilarious reactions to us.  I'm so sad she left this world so soon.  I thought there was plenty of time to experience more Karin moments.  I thought I'd have the chance to look her in the eye and thank her for the things she did for me.  Dammit.  Life is a real sonofabitch sometimes.  

But I want you to take my hand, Michelle.  Let's reminisce.  I want to tell you about your mom, but this time through my eyes.  From my eight year-old eyes, all the way up to my thirty-eight year-old eyes.  Let's do this.

Karin did not sleep.  Like, ever.  I think the woman thrived on an average of two hours of sleep every day for the entire duration of her adult life. I was in total awe of her when we were kids, and I kind of thought she might be a vampire or something.  Her sleep habits were intimidating as hell.  I mean, who does that?  Who comes home in the morning from working all night long, throws a giant bow in her hair, and says, "Let's do 472 different things today girls!  Starting right now!  I'll maybe sleep for an hour or two right before I go back to work for another all-nighter again tonight.  I'll be totally fine!"

OMG.  If I tried to do that for a single day, I would spend all of it yelling at people or crying from exhaustion.  Or crying from exhaustion while I yell at people.  Not Karin, though.  That woman did not give a single solitary shit about sleeping.  

Karin bent over to pick things up in the most hysterical way.  She was a proper lady.  So she would push her knees together very firmly and move her body in the most peculiar way as she bent over.  I can't even describe it, but it was kind of like an awkward close-kneed curtsy of some sort.  It was the most fantastic manner of bending over I've ever seen in my life.  

So being the asshole children that we were, we made it a regular practice to casually drop things on the ground to see if we could get her to pick them up for us.  And then laugh hysterically when she did.  Looking back, I'm 100% sure she knew what we were laughing about.  And she probably bent over with an even more ridiculous looking curtsy just to make us crack up harder.  God she was amazing.  

Karin was a single mom who worked her ass off to raise her kids.  She did a damn good job, too.  Just look at you!  I mean, shit.  LOOK AT YOU!  And she looked out for other single moms.  Like my mom back when we were in third grade.  They helped each other with us kids.  I never realized that at the time, but now I can see it.  All the time you spent with Becky and I, and all the time I spent with you and Karin.  And your mom knew how important our friendship was.  I see that now, too.  She did some shit most moms would never even consider.  Let me explain.

Both of us are moms now, so picture this through your motherhood eyes for me for just a second.  When we were like 12 years old, Karin put you on an airplane with me.  With no supervision.  To fly to Florida.  With no supervision.  So that we could drive with my grandparents to a federal prison, walk through metal detectors, and eat vending machine snacks with a bunch of convicted felons.  One of those men was my dad.  And she let you go.  More than once.  Because she knew I could use a friend.

Can you even imagine how that phone call went between Karin and Becky?  

Becky:  "Hi Karin!  Is Michelle allowed to fly to Florida with Jenn to visit the federal prison?  It will be totally fine.  We just have to get Michelle on the visitor's list.  I'm sure they will have a blast eating Twinkies out of the vending machines while the guards watch.  And don't worry.  It's just a federal prison.  They aren't even violent, most of the time.  Just a bunch of cocaine smugglers and mafia tax evader types.  All good, really.  

Karin:  "Absolutely!  No bother at all.  Michelle would LOVE to visit the federal prison!  What time should I drop her at the airport?"  

That is what Karin did for me.  I can only hope that I will be even half the woman she was for understanding how important that was.  And for actually doing it.  Because even though she loved you more than anything, I don't think she did that particular thing for you.  I think she let you go because she knew I needed you.  And I think that was the kindest thing anyone ever did for me as a kid.  Like I said, one in ten million.

Karin was an absolute perfectionist.  And her perfection seemed to center around the art of perfect photography.  If she did not get the perfect shot of ten girls standing around you at your perfectly decorated birthday party while you blew out your candles, we would light those suckers again.  And we would do it three more times until everybody looked just as she thought they should.  Period.  You did not dare question Karin's photography style.  Because if you did, she would totally ignore your objections.  And then give you "the look".  

Karin had a look.  She would tip her chin down slightly and move her eyeballs upward to look at you.  Eyebrows slightly raised.  And she always had this half smile on her lips.  Not a smirk, but more of a "I'm not at all impressed with what I'm looking at and I think you're a little dumb but I also still kind of love you" kind of smile.  

She gave me "the look" at Taco Bell one time in middle school.  Except she didn't use the half smile part that time.  I think she was really pissed.  We were going through the drive thru, and I thought it would be fantastic to roll down the back window and make inappropriate sounds into the drive thru microphone while Karin was trying to order.  I was such a beligerent little asshole.  Anyway, from what I recall, she told me to be quiet.  And I didn't.  And in my memory, I'm 99.9% sure she spun around with "the look" on her face and smacked the shit out of me in the middle of the drive thru line at Taco Bell.  You or Traci (she was definitely there) are going to have to confirm whether or not Karin actually landed that smack, but I'm pretty sure she did.  And I totally deserved it.  I have no idea why your mom ever agreed to take me anywhere.  But I'm so glad she did. 

And Karin did not mince words.  She would absolutely say exactly what she thought. In high school during our senior year, we had "Financial Aid Night", where we brought our parents so we could all learn how to obtain the money to get ourselves to college.  I brought my dad.  My dad had been home for over a year by then, but still lived in Florida.  He was in town, and I asked him to come with me.  We saw your mom in the hallway that night at the school, and as soon as she spotted us she immediately engaged him with "the look" and said, "What are YOU doing here?"  She wasn't being mean.  She just genuinely wanted to know why in the world he had replaced my mom for "Financial Aid Night".  Hell, maybe she thought he busted out of the federal prison.  So she asked in a very pointed manner.  But my dad didn't know Karin and her inability to mince words.  And that is officially the only time I have ever seen my dad stutter.  It was hilarious.  I still giggle every time I think of it.  

In our adult years, I didn't see as much of Karin.  Nothing like when we were kids.  But I did get to spend some time with her a few months ago at your baby shower.  She instructed me to sit next to you and assist you with your gifts.  And also to save a piece of wrapping paper from each gift so she could make some sort of scrapbook with discarded wrapping paper to remember that day's wrapping paper forever.  Totally a Karin thing.  And she watched me like a hawk to ensure I completed my wrapping paper task in a satisfactory manner.  I giggled the whole time and teased her about it because I'm still a beligerent little asshole.  But I hope that day reminded her of our childhood days, because it certainly reminded me.  In fact, I hope she made that discarded wrapping paper scrapbook thing.  And if she didn't get to it, I would love to help you finish it.  I wouldn't do that for anyone else.  But I would love to help Karin one more time with the discarded wrapping paper pieces.  I'm 100% sure she will be watching like a hawk to make sure it gets done right.

I love you, Michelle Yusufi Destro.  Thank you for being my friend.  And thank you for sharing a little piece of Karin with me for all these years.  She was one in ten million.  And so are you.

Jenn