I lost not only my daddy but my person. This man saved me when I went down a dark path when my mama passed away. I wouldn’t have survived losing her without him. He gave me a reason to go on. I watched him become my daughter’s best friend. She misses her Papa so much. I know she was given to me to help me through losing him; I just didn’t think it would be so soon.

It’s funny because I think back and he told me let’s make Christmas of 2020 our best one. I said how will we in the middle of the pandemi? He says I don’t know but we just have to make it memorable. He ordered us matching PJs, took all the pictures I wanted even though he hated them. Taught me to cook the most important meals … I think he knew.

He fought his way off the ventilator to be well enough to talk to me one last time …

I always disliked bed time. I was ready, he would tell me he wasn’t but to just go. He’d get himself in bed when he was ready … I’d go no dad you’re too weak this late in the day. I’ll wait and help. He’d turn on his favorite show. I’d settle on the couch with my phone or a book. And not even 5 mins later he’d be asleep in the chair … I’d say ready? He’d say nah I’m awake. Then, after a while, when I was quiet he’d wake up and yell HEY! I love you and scare the crap outta me haha! And then he would be ready. And tucking him in was always a project. But I never knew how much I’d miss it. I miss hearing him tell me it was always his favorite part of the day.

On February 8, 2021, Covid stole my world …

My husband, Luis Rivera, was a loving compassionate man with a huge heart for everyone he knew and loved. He loved to write and sing gospel music. He listened to all types of music and loved to reading the Bible.

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.