My cousin Martha died this morning.
Here’s the thing. A couple of days ago, Martha’s mom—my aunt—learned that she was in the hospital in Florida. Aunt Mary Lou is 83, has always been a bit on the ditzy side, doesn’t own a credit card, hasn’t driven in years, and regularly gets lost in Walgreens. My sister, who lives in Florida, offered to pick up Aunt Mary Lou at the airport in the next day or two if her son could help her get a flight.
A couple of hours later my sister got a call from another relative. Aunt Mary Lou was on her way to Florida! She had rummaged through her stacks of discarded mail, found a pre-approved card offer, and gotten it activated. She called Delta, the only airline she knew, and bought herself a one-way ticket to Florida. She talked her son into giving her a ride to the airport, and did not mention that she had no one to pick her up at the other end, a full three rural hours away from Martha. She got to the airport with no real ID—hey, she didn’t know—and talked her way onto the plane with her shiny new credit card and a pill bottle with her name on it. It was like she was a mother-missile with an internal guidance system primed and pointed at Martha. Her daughter needed her, and she was going to get there. She—was—going—to—get—there!
Shouldn’t every kid have a mom or dad who loves them like that?
At CASA, this is our hope, our work, and our resolve for every child who’s had the undeserved misfortune to be abused or neglected by someone who should love them the most, like my Aunt Mary Lou loved her Martha.
Thank you for all you do for CASA. You are helping find people who will love our kids. You are making the world better.