PATTY

Patricia Roberts, the chaplain at Holy Innocents School in Atlanta, died very young on December 5, 2010 after losing a valiant battle against the ravages of cancer. Not only as an Episcopal priest did she officiate at our youngest daughter’s wedding in 2009, but none other than the Rt. Rev. C. Andrew Doyle, bishop of Texas, officially declared St. Patty’s Day as December 10, the day of her funeral.

Patty was a close friend while attending the Rochester/Colgate Divinity School and giving birth to Oliver and Julia; in Atlanta she became my chief supporter and critic.

Her husband, David Roberts, has been my closest male friend since his father and I worked together during the halcyon days of broadcasting. In the traumatic time of 9/11/01, I was with Patty’s parents in St. Louis.

I know only too well what David is going through; he is an untethered stallion with neither bit, reins nor rider. I could not last an hour without the understanding and assistance of my own good wife, besieged as I am with the debilitative frustrations of PLS.

Last week David sent me an email in which he included an essay written by one of Patty’s students at Holy Innocents Episcopal School in Atlanta, a kid named Wickliffe Simmons. With their permission, here is the email:

Every once and a while, we get a "God wink" from Patty. They're rare, but they are there. Such as the day when Julia was headed back to college after Thanksgiving break and stopped by to pay respects to her mothers' ashes, which are buried beneath Patty’s ‘tree’ at Holy Innocents Episcopal School, in it's front courtyard — complete with a brass plaque embedded in the cemented bricks, in her honor.

Every time we visit, we tie a purple ribbon around the tree's base to honor her.

However, this time, as Julz was sitting on the wall that surrounds her mother's tree, Julz discovered that someone, (we don't know who) had placed a beautiful green — with black spots — ceramic frog at the tree's base, complete with a big smile and wide open eyes! Now, that's a God wink if ever there was one!

And then just the other day, we discovered that one of her students had written an essay about Chaplain Patty and how she helped him through the most difficult moments of his life — from the time he was in 7th grade all the way to graduation.

Julia’s best friend, Bridget, shared it with me just last night. I thought you would like to read it because this essay says so much about how Patty left her mark on the hearts and in the minds of so many during her life.

Wicks' essay is below. As you read it, I hope you find it enjoyable, and it places a comfortable moment in your heart and life:

WICK'S ESSAY

“Sometimes in order to truly understand yourself, it takes another person to help you realize your worth as an individual.

“I met Patty Roberts, singer, actress, and Episcopal priest, when I was seven years old, but we did not begin to grow close until my adolescent years.

“During middle school, I felt alienated from my classmates because of my diverse interests. At lunch all they wanted to talk about was sports or video games; I wanted to talk about the ambiguities of religion, world conflicts, or playing the cello.

“My interests and enthusiasms were off - putting to my peers, to say the least. After all, most twelve year olds don’t obsess over religious contradictions or the Holocaust, and not too many are enthusiastic about classical music.

“I sat alone at recess, listening to my CD of Bach Cello Suites, fantasizing about what it would be like if the other kids would stop to listen. I was a boy who had excessive passions but had no means to funnel them.

“Chaplain Patty held my hand through my toughest moments with my classmates during those years. Many afternoons were spent in her office — dry or wet - cheeked, just talking. She became a motherly figure in my life. I could talk to her about my ups and downs, and she would respond with the unconditional love of a parent. She encouraged me to question faith and to find peace in my unrest.

“We would listen to classical music together while we talked. Her support helped me realize that I had value after all and that my ‘voice’ did matter.

“As she inspired me to continue being a constant seeker of an inner truth; she led me to discover how to stabilize my passions through a gift. Music was the gift I had been given, and it had always been a part of my life, but it wasn't until I joined the high school orchestra as a sixth grader that I began to understand and excel.

“When I was thirteen, Patty invited me to play in a school chapel service. I was most apprehensive, but before I played, she whispered in my ear: “Be not afraid and all shall be well.”

“Following that performance, music became my identity - - Patty had given me an outlet for my ‘voice.’ I spoke through my fingers and a bow, and they listened.

“Funny how things work out: while I was fighting my battles, Patty was fighting for her life. Veiled under her blonde wig, she became frail and exhausted from radiation treatments. I knew she could not hold my hand forever.

“When she entered the hospice, I realized that I had met someone who had directed me toward what I would do with the rest of my life. As she lay dying, I wanted to see her and maybe even play the cello for her, but she did not want me to see her that way. She wanted me to remember her the way she was, and said that she would hear me play at her memorial service. I respected her request.

“At her funeral, I played just as I did that day in chapel. I spoke my teary farewells, and I believe that she heard me.

"Patty’s own artistic talents and spirituality had helped ground me. The cello became the ‘voice’ through which I could express my inner emotions, and it continues to provide me with that outlet. It gives me a sense of value and the confidence for my ‘voice’ to be heard.”
Wickliffe Simmons


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