There was no speaking allowed at her service so I figured I would say it here
If you ask anybody who knew Kari well to say one thing about her, I think most people would say she had a big heart. So it came as no surprise when the medical examiner said she had an enlarged heart. We already knew that.
When Kari loved you, you knew it—there was no question. She showed you all the time. She genuinely cared about people. She remembered not just their names, but personal details about the folks at the grocery store or anywhere she went regularly.
One time, we went to talk to the manager at Harris Teeter about how great their guy Mike was in the deli. He was very overweight, dealing with health issues, and his skin was cracked and painful—you could tell he was hurting. But he always lit up when Kari came around. She had that effect on a lot of people. Everyone smiled when they saw her.
She was beautiful, funny, and sweet. She knew all sorts of random facts about presidents, history, and especially animals, and she loved sharing them even when we weren’t talking about anything related. She never put herself first, even when she should have. Her kids were her number one. I’ve never seen grown kids climb into bed with their mom the way hers did—regularly. They’d come snuggle with her and watch TV. (We had a queen bed, plus the dog always wanted on too, so I’d end up on this tiny little sliver. But Kari couldn’t have been happier.)
She was so sentimental , she kept everything ! She carried around a rock for years , it was her lucky rock ,she said, cause she had it the day we met. It didn’t take much to make her happy. She loved flowers, a heartfelt card, snuggles, or even just holding hands—anything to reach those necessary 14 meaningful touches a day. I heard about that one a lot.
I could talk about Kari and share funny or sweet stories for hours. But I’m just going to tell you how we met. Kari rang my doorbell and asked for a charging block. She was obviously upset, so I invited her in and let her charge her phone. We talked a little, and she didn’t have anywhere to go, so I told her she could stay on the couch for a few days. Then a few more.
That month ended up being horrible—my dad passed away, and then a week later, my good friend was killed. Kari was there for me the whole time, doing anything she thought might help. It wasn’t long before I realized I loved her and just blurted it out. And the rest, as they say, is history.
So as we say goodbye to Kari, the world is losing someone special. There’s going to be less joy, less laughter, and a lot less love in it. I loved her, and I always will—even when she drove me nuts. I miss her and that crazy hair so much, as I’m sure you all do too.
So Kari, if you’re listening, know that we love you. I love you. And I’m very much looking forward to being able to hold you tight and kiss you all over your face when I make it there… if I make it there.