Cindy Lange-Kubick: Mom honors daughter's death with donations
Her mother got the card last week.
To Jodi’s family,
I’m an 85-year-old senior, I have adopted Tinker.
The Capital Humane Society sent the thank-you note to Joann Sabatka after the woman named Margie took the little red dog home from the shelter.
love her so much and will take care of all her needs. It was so kind of you to pay for the adoption fee. Thank you ... Margie
Joann’s daughter died after a simple surgery in April 2005.
The obituary for Jodi Maughan-Kos said the 32-year-old was preceded in death by her Grandfather Joseph and her Aunt Rosie and her beloved dog Bear Bear. It said she would be remembered for her infectious laugh and for her joy.
It asked that memorials be given to the Humane Society.
Which they were, $2,500 in all.
And the next April, Jodi’s mother made another donation to help the animals Jodi loved.
And, then, this April came.
April is hard for Joann now. Jodi died in April. Jodi’s birthday was in April and so was her wedding anniversary.
So in April, Joann took some time off from MDS Pharma Services, where she has worked for 20 years.
Her co-workers decided to surprise her while she was away. In March, Joann had paid the adoption fee for a friend who didn’t have enough money for a puppy. They began collecting money for another donation in Jodi’s name.
The day Joann came back, everyone cried when they gave her $300.
Joann cried when she went to the shelter with the money.
“I had to carry it on somehow,” she says. “I can’t imagine people not remembering my daughter, so this helps ...”
How does a mother go on without her baby?
The firstborn who helped the 20-year-old grow up fast? The toddler who stood bouncing in her crib every morning, holding onto the slats, listening for that one special voice.
Mommy hears a baby who wants to get up!
The schoolgirl who was always dragging home wounded birds and lost cats and stray dogs?
Joann talks to a counselor.
She leans on her family and her friends and her co-workers.
She holds onto memories.
Joann still lives in the frame house on West Q where Jodi and her sister, Angela, grew up.
For five years, Jodi was the one and only. First child. First grandchild.
“I knew she was going to be something to deal with because it took me two days to have her.”
Her husband called his dad to tell him Joann was having pains when labor started.
Oh, hell, his dad said. It’s just gas.
When the baby came they called him again.
Your little fart’s here!
Jodi was a jolly baby. And right from the start she had a big heart for animals.
“Every time she’d come home from school she’d bring something. A bird or a turtle or a rabbit,” her mom says.
She named her first dog Bear Bear, and every dog after that was Bear Bear, too.
And she thought a place like the Humane Society was the only place to get a pet, because they needed homes so badly.
They’re the underdogs, she’d tell people. They need someone to love them.
Jodi’s last job was at Jack’s Bar and Grill, where she worked her way from bartender to manager.
That’s where she met her husband.
In the wedding album Joann keeps at her house, the mother and daughter smile, the same smile in the same face.
“Joann was the proudest woman on the face of the earth,” says her co-worker Jean Calahan. “You could tell by the look in her eyes.”
And so Joann went to the Humane Society with a photograph of Jodi and a poem about animals and love and that $300.
It was enough for three adoptions, one each month this spring given in Jodi’s memory to an older person in need of companionship.
Tinker and Margie are the first match.
How does a mother go on?
She looks at pictures. At a girl with golden hair holding a stuffed dog from the fair. At a teenager hugging her sister. At herself as a young mother with her 3-year-old princess captured in sepia-toned time.
She remembers.
“I don’t think anyone can really be prepared for motherhood until you’re there. All the sudden you’re responsible, and you can’t do some of the things you did before.
“And then you realize it’s not a sacrifice.”
She holds onto a note from the place that helps the underdogs her daughter loved.
Hi Joann, I wanted to let you know the first Jodi adoption took place this week. ... It would have made you smile.
Reach Cindy Lange-Kubick at 473-7218 or clangekubick@journalstar.com.
To Jodi’s family,
I’m an 85-year-old senior, I have adopted Tinker.
The Capital Humane Society sent the thank-you note to Joann Sabatka after the woman named Margie took the little red dog home from the shelter.
love her so much and will take care of all her needs. It was so kind of you to pay for the adoption fee. Thank you ... Margie
Joann’s daughter died after a simple surgery in April 2005.
The obituary for Jodi Maughan-Kos said the 32-year-old was preceded in death by her Grandfather Joseph and her Aunt Rosie and her beloved dog Bear Bear. It said she would be remembered for her infectious laugh and for her joy.
It asked that memorials be given to the Humane Society.
Which they were, $2,500 in all.
And the next April, Jodi’s mother made another donation to help the animals Jodi loved.
And, then, this April came.
April is hard for Joann now. Jodi died in April. Jodi’s birthday was in April and so was her wedding anniversary.
So in April, Joann took some time off from MDS Pharma Services, where she has worked for 20 years.
Her co-workers decided to surprise her while she was away. In March, Joann had paid the adoption fee for a friend who didn’t have enough money for a puppy. They began collecting money for another donation in Jodi’s name.
The day Joann came back, everyone cried when they gave her $300.
Joann cried when she went to the shelter with the money.
“I had to carry it on somehow,” she says. “I can’t imagine people not remembering my daughter, so this helps ...”
How does a mother go on without her baby?
The firstborn who helped the 20-year-old grow up fast? The toddler who stood bouncing in her crib every morning, holding onto the slats, listening for that one special voice.
Mommy hears a baby who wants to get up!
The schoolgirl who was always dragging home wounded birds and lost cats and stray dogs?
Joann talks to a counselor.
She leans on her family and her friends and her co-workers.
She holds onto memories.
Joann still lives in the frame house on West Q where Jodi and her sister, Angela, grew up.
For five years, Jodi was the one and only. First child. First grandchild.
“I knew she was going to be something to deal with because it took me two days to have her.”
Her husband called his dad to tell him Joann was having pains when labor started.
Oh, hell, his dad said. It’s just gas.
When the baby came they called him again.
Your little fart’s here!
Jodi was a jolly baby. And right from the start she had a big heart for animals.
“Every time she’d come home from school she’d bring something. A bird or a turtle or a rabbit,” her mom says.
She named her first dog Bear Bear, and every dog after that was Bear Bear, too.
And she thought a place like the Humane Society was the only place to get a pet, because they needed homes so badly.
They’re the underdogs, she’d tell people. They need someone to love them.
Jodi’s last job was at Jack’s Bar and Grill, where she worked her way from bartender to manager.
That’s where she met her husband.
In the wedding album Joann keeps at her house, the mother and daughter smile, the same smile in the same face.
“Joann was the proudest woman on the face of the earth,” says her co-worker Jean Calahan. “You could tell by the look in her eyes.”
And so Joann went to the Humane Society with a photograph of Jodi and a poem about animals and love and that $300.
It was enough for three adoptions, one each month this spring given in Jodi’s memory to an older person in need of companionship.
Tinker and Margie are the first match.
How does a mother go on?
She looks at pictures. At a girl with golden hair holding a stuffed dog from the fair. At a teenager hugging her sister. At herself as a young mother with her 3-year-old princess captured in sepia-toned time.
She remembers.
“I don’t think anyone can really be prepared for motherhood until you’re there. All the sudden you’re responsible, and you can’t do some of the things you did before.
“And then you realize it’s not a sacrifice.”
She holds onto a note from the place that helps the underdogs her daughter loved.
Hi Joann, I wanted to let you know the first Jodi adoption took place this week. ... It would have made you smile.
Reach Cindy Lange-Kubick at 473-7218 or clangekubick@journalstar.com.
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