I have wanted to write this since my Godmother, Gaye Kitchens, passed away about a month ago. I am not sure even where to start but let’s start with Gaye being my second mother, one of the most important women in my life. I saw Gaye all the time, her and my mom where best friends. The story on how they met goes something like this. My parents had moved to Atlanta from St. Louis, Missouri as the company my dad was working for called Mundet Cork transferred him to Atlanta. They moved into an apartment off DeKalb Avenue in Decatur, Georgia and my mom had a job up the road about 3 miles. Every morning my mom would stand at the bus stop to take a bus to work. One day, Gaye and Charles stopped by and said “hello, we noticed you live in the same apartments as we do and that you catch a bus everyday in the same direction we are going. Where are you going?” After my mom told them about 3 miles up the road they said “we go that way every day, we could give you a ride if you want.” The rest ended up being a lifelong friendship and Gaye and Charles became my Godparents and their youngest son Jeff became my parents Godson. So, it is hard for me not to think of Gaye all the time. She was at every one of my birthdays growing up. She always gave me a birthday present even when I was older. She loved me like a son. She had this incredible kindness about her. I always remember she had a smile, probably why I smile so much. I started thinking, I never heard her yell or raise her voice at me, never. She had this beautiful laugh, not really a chuckle, but a soft laugh that made you want to laugh. Our families went on vacations together. My most memorable vacations with them was to Callaway Gardens in South Georgia. They would rent two cabins next to each other and our families would golf, swim, and eat together. At one point she worked for my dad as a secretary. My dad had an office in our home and I saw her many times a day especially during the summer. When I went out and came home, Gaye would be there. It is hard to express how much she really meant to me. Someone who helped mold me into a better person, someone, like my mother, who loved me unconditionally. I know I didn’t tell her enough how much she meant to me but I do know that her kindness is in me and I share that same kindness now with others.
Gaye (on the right) and my mom kissing me. Not sure when this was taken or for what occasion.
Walter Shroyer Blog 