Robin Rae Short
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Robin's obituary
On April 11, 2021, Robin Short decided she’d had enough of brain cancer’s nonsense and peacefully checked out of this world. Born November 23, 1955, Robin spent 65 years being exactly who she wanted to be: quiet until she had something sarcastic to say, and fiery whenever it counted.
Robin’s battle with brain cancer was undeniably difficult, but in true Robin fashion, she made sure she had the last word. True to her lifelong mantra—“If you want something done right, do it yourself”—she chose to remove herself from chemo and transition to comfort and peace on her own terms. She faced the end with a grit and grace that was uniquely hers, choosing to spend her final chapter surrounded by family instead of a hospital staff.
She is now reunited in the afterlife with the love of her life, Al, her parents, John and Maryann, and her siblings. She leaves behind her sister Sally, 11 grandchildren and the three people who truly knew the depths of her "unique" parenting style: her children Krystal, Josh, and Ken.
The Robin Short Standard Operating Procedure:
The Birthday Bar is High: Your birthday is YOUR day, if you don't get a homemade cake and a living room full of "tacky" decorations, it wasn't a real birthday.
Dollar Store Queen: Robin knew the best gifts didn't come from a boutique; they came from the dollar store aisles, usually followed by a smirk and a cold Dr. Pepper.
Holiday Law: Thanksgiving is for turkey. Christmas is for the tree. Do not—under any circumstances—mix the two or you will hear about it.
A Haunting in Progress: She wasn't a perfect woman—she’d be the first to tell you that—but she did her absolute best and loved her 11 grandchildren with everything she had. Before she left, she gave us fair warning: she fully intends to haunt us all in the afterlife... just as soon as she figures out the logistics.
When she wasn't reading the twisted tales of John Saul or Stephen King, she was likely sobbing through her 1,000th viewing of Homeward Bound, obsessing over the supernatural worlds of Buffy and Charmed, or quietly beating her own high score in Solitaire.
While there is a void in our hearts now, we’ll be looking for her "signs"—likely a flickering light the moment we try to put the Christmas tree up too early.
We love you, Mom. We’re ready for the haunting whenever you are.
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