It has been over a year since our Papa passed away and it still feels unreal. Our Papa was the best grandpa in the world and had played a huge role in the women we are today.

Young at heart and open to trying new things, our Papa instilled that same mentality in us. He took us to our first Beyoncé concert, we parasailed in Hawaii and jet skied in Puerto Rico together during our family vacations, he taught us how to drive, and so much more. We had Sunday breakfast dates at iHop which used to be Thursday evenings at Chili’s when we were younger. He encouraged us, from a very young age, to try new food which turned us into big foodies who enjoy trying new food as a past time.

We have so many beautiful and funny memories of the time we had together, which was not enough. He supported all of our achievements big or small, encouraged us to try new things and to do what makes us happy. His smile lit up a room, his hugs melted our fears away, and his head rubs made us fall asleep like when we were babies. Babies. His babies. He always told us that we would always be his babies no matter our ages. His unconditional love was felt through every phone call, every hug, and every “I love you.”

But, when our world stopped, the rest of the world kept moving.

If anyone could overcome the virus (or anything for that matter) it would have been him. It was going to be him. He fought to stay with us and we know that he was more concerned with how we were going to handle him not being around anymore rather than him fearing what he was going through and what was to come.

Our Papa was so strong and would do anything and everything for us. He is deeply missed beyond measure and loved more than words can describe. Our lives were full because he was in it and we are blessed that he is our Papa. We love you Papa, always and forever.

Danielle and Jessica Alejandro, Joseph Anthony Szalkiewicz’s granddaughters

This story is adapted from Tony Cooper’s reflections, published in the church bulletin after Bobby’s death.
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The Coronavirus hit too close to home. One of my former youth ministry kids died from Covid-19.

His name is Bobby, and he was one of the most memorable teens I ever served in my 16 years as a Youth Minister. He was remarkable for the things he did not have. He didn’t have money. He lived in the projects. He did not have a high GPA. He had mental disabilities and needed special education. Bobby had a speech impediment, and was sometimes hard to understand. He got picked on by bullies a lot in school & the neighborhood. He had no father at home.

But, despite all these negative factors in his life, I really loved this kid. He had: a very generous heart and spirit. He was poor, but he would give you his last dollar. He always said good things about people. Bobby was kind to everyone. He came to church regularly. He always asked how I and my family were doing.

Bobby was a good steward. He received God’s gifts gratefully, developed them, and shared them with others. He volunteered to help with any youth activity. He loved being a part of St. Mary’s Youth Ministry. He was so appreciative that everyone accepted him there.

The funniest memory of Bobby comes from our Annual Summer Camp Out. I had to swap canoes to help Bobby finish the 6-mile river trip. He and his brother were stuck and going nowhere less than 1/2 mile into the trip. Bobby and I became boat buddies that day. We had the best time laughing and joking with his brother and my wife in the other boat. Bobby mentioned it for years about the great time we had that day.

We moved away from New Albany 30 years ago. But, we always visit every year, usually during the Harvest Homecoming fall festival. And, we would always see Bobby at the festival. He walked everywhere, and always had a smile on his face.

I was just stunned when I got the sad news from his sister that Bobby had died of Covid-19. Debbie told me Bobby had health issues for about the last 15 years, and a year ago, he needed nursing home care. When the Coronavirus swept Indiana, Bobby’s nursing home was hard hit. Bobby and two of his roommates died of the virus. He was only 55.

So, when this pandemic finally leaves us, we will look back and remember how it changed our lives, and changed our world. And I will always have the sad memory of how it took my special friend, Bobby … way too young.

In Him,
Tony Cooper
Stewardship and Development

Dad would stand there at the kitchen stove, a silver pan sitting on the burner. He would add the cooking oil to the pan and make sure the heat was just the right temperature. From the other room you could hear the tink, tink, tink, sizzle, sizzle, sizzle, as each kernel would hit the hot oil as he poured it in. We all knew those sounds. Dad was making stove popped popcorn. The lid would find its way onto the pan, to keep the contents from escaping too soon. Then Dad would move the pan back and forth over the heat, making a low scraping sound with each motion, as the kernels and oil merged.

Then as if out of nowhere the pops would come. Slow at first, then faster and louder. The pop, pop, pop would release the aroma of the treat inside the pan. When the pops would slow, Dad would take the pan off the stove and smile. He would add melted butter to the top of the popcorn and if we were staying at home, he would pour it into a big bowl for all of us to share. If we were going to the Drive-In movies, the popcorn would go into a large brown paper bag, with the top rolled down to seal it closed. My Dad made the best popcorn. Oh, how I miss my dad and his wonderful popcorn.

It was a pretty normal Tuesday morning, 12/15/2020 and my mother called me — she said she was having horrible pains, could I come over.

I drove to her nearby house and sure enough she needed to go to the hospital. That entire day was a fiasco and the communication from the hospital was extremely poor. (It is important to note here that on Thursday of the previous week she took a COVID test and Monday received the negative results, she was also again tested in the ER on 12/15 and received negative results.) I did find out that my Mom was going to have emergency surgery that evening. (That whole day was a mess with communication with hospital and consent forms. I was not permitted to stay with her in the ER. I was listed as the person to contact – no contact was made.)

My Mom had the surgery and I was able to visit her the next day. Surgery seemed to go well and she seemed pretty good the next day. I was literally skipping out of the hospital when I left because I was so happy about how well it all went. Due to visiting policies, I was not able to go back to see her until Saturday.

But, on Saturday she just didn’t seem as awake and alert as she was on Wednesday. She said she just didn’t feel good. My sister went on Sunday and called me to say Mom just doesn’t seem like she feels well. I visited on Monday and she was not feeling well at all. We kept telling the hospital staff — they said it was just the hospital stay — it makes you that way.

The next day she was sent home in late afternoon. I stayed with her all day Wednesday 12/23/2020. She did not feel well, was super tired and didn’t have an appetite. By evening she spiked a high fever, high enough that I became concerned and called her surgeon. Her surgery site looked fine so she took more Tylenol and tried to rest.

My poor mother moaned and groaned all night long in misery. Finally in the morning she was so sick I knew we were going to have to go back to the hospital. We thought maybe it was a UTI. I made a few calls to doctors and they said to take her into the ER.

Not long after I dropped her off at the ER I received a call from my sister — she’d tested positive for COVID-19. On January 8, 2021 my mother lost her battle with the nasty virus and passed away.

We are all still devastated, in shock, traumatized, and horribly heartbroken over the loss of our mother.

Another example of always thinking of others before herself: When I hiked Volcanoes National Park in Hawaii with my daughters, 10 acres of new volcanic shelf fell into the ocean before our eyes causing a massive mushroom cloud, and we had to evacuate immediately.

My wife Laura, who had stayed behind, saw the cloud and grabbed water before beginning to run our way. We had run out of water shortly after beginning our 7 mile hike to the lava flow, and were showing signs of heat distress on our hike back in the 90 degree heat. I was having serious thoughts of calling for rescue when over the horizon an angel appeared carrying the 3 water bottles that may have saved our life.

A mother, an angel, and so very loved !