Carter Monroe

At some point in this life, I made it my purpose to strive to always treat people better than they treated me.  By and large it’s a goal I’ve realized.  Yet, in terms of basic goodness and generosity, I was not even in the same ballpark as Cait Collins and I honestly don’t believe anyone was.  Any kindness meted in her direction was returned ten-fold.  If you sent her a chap, it was like the best one she’d ever read and the praise never, ever seemed perfunctory.  If I bought books from her or procured her talents in whatever manner, I always felt as if I needed to send cash for fear she wouldn’t cash a check. 

I can recall the day I received and read at one sitting her first four chapbooks.  I remember being struck by the immense energy as well as the total honesty.  I even suggested to her on more than one occasion that her writing was so good that she needed to spend more time with her own art as opposed to exhausting herself in her seeming obsession with helping others to perpetuate their own.  Those, of course, were wasted words.  Selfishness was not a thing she was capable of comprehending. 

The last time we talked was on Saturday morning Dec. 11.  Like all conversations and emails since she had incurred the disease, she was very positive about the future.  It was like regardless of how she felt, she didn’t want anyone worrying about her.  No matter how much pain she might have been in at a given moment, she wanted those who loved her to be spared the concern.  Such was the selfless person who was Cait Collins.   I was most grateful for that conversation.  I can truly say it made my Christmas.  Yet, like all the others that had taken place in the previous year, there was the long period of silence that followed. 

I received the final email exactly two months (Feb. 11) after the final phone call.  While there was still the same upbeat and positive attitude, it was impossible to ignore the great physical pain to which she was and had been subject.   While I mourn her death greatly, I’m glad the pain is gone.  This is a tremendous personal loss to me, but that pales in comparison to the loss the art world is being forced to endure.  I’m sure I will miss her more than I can realize at this time.  I’m sure we all will.