March 7, 1945, was one of the brightest days of my life.  The sun was shining and flowers were beginning to wake from their winter snooze—harbingers of spring; and it was the day I received one of the greatest gifts of my life.  I turned five the previous December and as the first born child had enjoyed being the center of my parents’ attention all that time.  However, shortly after Christmas I learned that I would be joined by a sister or brother in the next few months.  I was excited at the prospect. When I awoke that morning, my grandmother told me Mommy and Daddy had gone to the hospital “to get the baby.”  I knew that the baby was inside Mommy—she had let me feel it kicking.  Since I had had my tonsils out the year before, I thought the process was similar.   I answered the phone shortly before eight o’clock, and Daddy told me I had a sister, and her name was Catherine.

Right from the start she was a beautiful child—blond curly hair, blue eyes, always smiling.  She was also precocious and talented.  When she was eighteen months old she took her first plane ride to Oakridge, Tennessee, and charmed everyone she met.  She had a lovely voice and keen memory and at the age of three began taking singing lessons, then performed at family functions while I accompanied her on the piano.  I may have been the first child, but Cathie was certainly the star. When she was about six we went to visit a cousin in the hospital and while there we toured the facility and stopped by to see the newborn babies in the nursery.  Cathie was enthralled and announced then that she would be a “baby doctor” when she grew up.

When our Dad died tragically in December of 1958, Cathie was a freshman in high school.  Like all of us, she was devastated by the loss but still determined to fulfill her dreams–always positive, always moving forward.  Her stellar scholastic record earned her admission to Chestnut Hill College and then to Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania.

She was a real live fairy godmother to her niece and nephew, playing with them at their level, telling them silly stories and teaching them sillier songs; taking them on weekend getaways to Philadelphia, where they were allowed to eat sugary cereals (which were verboten at home) and ice cream for breakfast, to see two movies the same afternoon if they couldn’t decide which one they wanted to see, and stay up as late as they liked. Where we had gone camping on family vacations, Cathie took them on their first plane trips to the Bahamas and Bermuda; but most of all she lavished them with love and showed them how to have fun.

After many years of education, Cathie established a successful OB-GYN practice and delivered thousands of babies whose pictures lined the walls of her office.  She was awed at the miracle of birth each time and was happy to help bring so much joy into the world.  She earned the admiration and respect of her peers and the trust and affection of her patients.

She also continued to cultivate her musical talents and even performed at a cocktail lounge in New York City.  The place was packed with cheering fans (family, friends, patients, colleagues) at every performance, and she enjoyed the spotlight, but fortunately did not abandon her day job.  On one vacation to Florida she went on a charter fishing trip and, as the only woman aboard,  single-handedly brought in a 10-foot, 800-pound hammerhead shark which she had mounted and exhibited proudly.

Her greatest pride and joy, however, came with the birth of her two sons, Tom and John.  She recognized their individuality and encouraged their separate interests:  John in music and technology and Tom in anything with a motor—the bigger, the better.  She had a sound-proof studio built for John in the basement of their home so he could play and record to his heart’s content; and paid the tuition for Tom to take a course in long distance truck driving because he thought it would be neat to be a cross-country big rig driver.

Cathie also had difficulties in her life: in a constant struggle with weight through many  diet programs, even bariatric surgery, with no lasting success; the heartbreak of failed relationships, including divorce; and the challenges of single-parenthood.  Having a strong faith and positive attitude and with the support of family and friends, she persevered.

Through hard work and devotion to her profession Cathie enjoyed a comfortable life—a succession of upscale homes and cars, luxury vacations, dining in the finest restaurants, and attending first run shows on Broadway; but she also enjoyed the simpler pleasures, especially relaxing at her shore house, where she planned to live in retirement. She derived joy and satisfaction in sharing, and her hospitality and generosity seemed limitless.  Her needlework skills were legendary.  She knitted baby blankets and sweater sets, many of which she gave as gifts to the infants she delivered.  How many doctors do that?  Her colorful needlepoint pillows decorate many homes.

Because of the five-year difference in our ages, we had separate interests while growing up but were best friends as adults.  Cathie was our family’s go-to doctor for any and all medical issues—even the men in the family turned to a gynecologist for advice.  If she couldn’t fix what ailed us she would refer us to someone who could.

February 7, 2012, was one of the darkest days of my life.  The numbing chill I felt on hearing my brother Bob tell me “Cathie died” still envelopes me whenever I think of it.  Cathie had been recovering from an ankle fracture sustained the day before Thanksgiving. She returned home in late January after several weeks of rehab and although using assistance to walk, was putting her “forge ahead” resources to work getting on with life.  After running errands all day she was having difficulty breathing during the night.  Emergency medical services were called, and she was taken by ambulance to the hospital.  Cathie died enroute to St. Barnabas from a massive blood clot in her lungs. As her stretcher was being wheeled in through the emergency entrance, a pregnant woman in a wheel chair was arriving to give birth.  Cathie would have seen it as a sign that life goes on.

I don’t know where the connection to lady bugs originated*, but we feel that Cathie is still with us in spirit, and whenever we see one, we think of her.  A recent sighting was at the Head of the Charles Regatta in Boston.  My granddaughter, Helen, was competing on the RIT varsity crew and spotted a ladybug on the oar as she got into the boat.  When she arrived at the end of the run, that same ladybug was sitting on her shoulder.  The team did very well, placing among the top contenders, and we all believe “Cioci Cathie” was there and helped in the race.

                                 She has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often, and loved much.                                                                                                                               (Bessie Anderson Stanley)

• Notes from WIKIPEDIA:  Coccinellidea:  a widespread family of small beetles known as “ladybugs” in North America; the most commonly recorded species is the 7-spot; the name is derived from the Latin word coccineus meaning scarlet; the insect became known as “Our Lady’s bird” because Mary was often depicted wearing a red cloak with seven spots said to symbolize her seven joys and seven sorrows; they are natural predators of a range of serious pests that cost US agriculture more than $1 billion annually in crop losses;  they appear in June around the feast of St. Barnabas (Cathie practiced her entire medical career at St. Barnabas Medical Center); part of a Polish nursery rhyme, “Little Ladybird’s Anthem,” became a popular saying: fly to the sky little ladybird, bring me a piece of bread; many  cultures consider ladybugs lucky and the sight of a coccinellid is a call to make a wish or a sign that a wish will be granted..