The Demise of Kitty Kelly

I never knew Kitty Kelly but I loved her name.  It was such fun to say.  Embossed on a golden nameplate next to her apartment door at the retirement village, it made me smile on more than one occasion as I passed her former residence en route to my mom’s new apartment.  Who was she, this unseen lady with the alliterative moniker that captured my attention?  Was she a schoolteacher?  An artist nude model?  An innovative business woman?  Did she have a family? How many children?  Did her husband drink and beat her, leaving her finally free after he passed?  Or did he devote his life to the woman to whom he bestowed the lyrical surname of Kelly? She lived a life, an important life – all life is important; her name bequeathed a smile to even perfect strangers like me.

Today I passed the apartment and the nameplate was gone, a gaping blank slot, the apartment was empty, devoid of furniture and personal effects.  Empty except for the crew, of course, busy at their regular work in such a place, cleaning up after the dead.

Merry Christmas, Kitty.  Peace.