Adeline F. Klima

Our mother, Adeline Francis Klima, 96, red headed beauty, mother, artist, beloved matriarch, died peacefully of "old age itis" with her daughters by her side in Burlington, Vt. on November 21, 2022. She was born in 1926, almost one hundred years ago, in Oil City, Pennsylvania. This was a beloved place and after she moved away, she returned summer after summer to be with her grandmother and aunts. We have many tales from her time spent there - stories about invisible yet visible ducks, invisible yet visible relatives, ie - ghosts, attack rabbits, aggressive roosters, and the sweetest, tiniest, grandmother in the whole wide world.
Our mother was born with flaming red hair. Her parents feared she would be full of the devil with hair like that, so they shaved her head and hoped it would grow back a bit less fiery. Superstitious? Absolutely, though I am certain it didn't help one bit, because my mother maintained her fabulous red mane and her feisty nature throughout her entire life.
Our mother was deeply religious. So religious, in fact, that she considered becoming a nun in the Catholic Church. Instead, she chose to marry and raise a family, saying she picked the more difficult road. That was most likely true, because she married my dad, Leonard Klima, who was no saint! She also raised all five of us, and we all know that is not ever easy to do. But she did it and she did it well.
Our mother was an artist. She was always drawn to beauty, no matter where, no matter when. On family drives when we were young, it was my mother who taught us to see, calling us to look, look out. See the brilliant blue sky with those ice cream castle clouds, the bursting green leaves unfurling in the Spring, the glowing red and orange hues of the Autumn landscape. Look, see. This is beauty.
Our mother was a learner, an eager and voracious learner. She was always taking evening classes, learning how to hand color black and white photographs, how to arrange flowers, how to decorate cakes, and most importantly how to paint. She painted for years. In fact, she painted her whole life. She would put us children to bed, and then set up her easel in the kitchen, mastering oil painting, acrylic painting and watercolors. She was motivated and tenacious. She exhibited her work many times and glowed when she won awards. She was proud. She painted until her eyes failed and she could no longer see.
Our mother was fashionable and always enjoyed looking good. Her clothes needed to match, her lipstick needed to be on, and always, always she accessorized with coordinated earrings and jewelry. She cared about her lotions and perfume, and of course her copper red hair. If you knew her, you knew this. My mother was always beautiful.
Our mother was stubborn. Holy cow was she headstrong. This was especially difficult near the end of her life when her dementia kicked in. She was adamant about her visions, even when they made absolutely no sense at all. Men climbing through her window on the third story, purring cats laying across her feet, and the sexual escapades in the nursing home!! We just gave in in the end, knowing that to oppose her was useless. She was always like that.
Our mother was a clairvoyant. She was intuitive, psychic and mystical. At times it was downright scary. There are too many stories to tell of her ability to read and sense things correctly. Even towards the end of her life when her vision and hearing were severely impaired, her sixth sense picked up every emotional nuance. Perhaps it was because she was so attuned to those around her.
Our mother was delightful. The older she got the more easily she laughed. Laughter was the bridge she used whenever the space between what was spoken and what was heard became too big. Her hearing was quite a challenge, and her bubbling laugh helped keep the speaker and listener connected until she finally understood what was spoken. Humor and delight became her approach to life. Her laugh was like the song of a bird, full of a rich emotional intelligence and there for anyone ready to listen.
Our mother was loving and kind. In fact, this entire piece could be written about her kindness. This is her gift, and it gave her purpose. She was kind to her family, she was kind to her friends, but most importantly she was kind to strangers. This is something all of us know about her. This is what strangers comment on. This is what endeared her to so many. She was a champion of the underdog and a wee bit too liberal for my father. But this mission of hers, to offer compassion and solace in a sometimes-painful world, this was her legacy. And ironically, this links us right back to her beginning when she was deciding between the convent or the conventional path. Did it really matter which direction she chose? In fact, it didn't, because wherever she went, there she was; kind, loving, gentle. Selfishly though, we are so glad she chose this path, because here we are, and we were loved by her.
Our mother leaves behind all five of us, her children: Paul Klima, Sandy Klima, Mark (Sharon) Klima, Judy Klima (Anna Thelemarck), Tim Klima; all seven of her grandchildren: Jessica (Scott) Sattler, Jamile (AJ) Aponas, Kaitlyn (Dave) Mariano, Morgan and Mitchell Klima, Anders and Jakob Thelemarck; and all 3 of her great-grandchildren: Adalyn and Brianna Sattler, Zoe Aponas. Unfortunately, she left us before she could greet her newest great-grandson arriving in December, Manuel Leo Mariano; pre-deceased by one sister and three brothers, survived by her youngest sister, Gerry Ciurczak, as well as many nieces and nephews.
We extend our sincere thanks to Burlington Health and Rehab who cared for her r this past year, along with those at Griswold Home Care, especially to Laurie Farnsworth. A shout out to Hazel Wasmund, Lila Lehman and Lisa Scofield for befriending her and making her so happy. Calling hours will be held on Thursday, December 1 at Ready Funeral Home, from 6-8pm. There will be a service held on Friday morning at 10 am at St. Joseph's Cathedral in Burlington followed by a burial at Lakeview Cemetery on North Avenue. In her honor, and as a balm to this often-painful world, remember to be loving and kind, especially to strangers. And laugh like a songbird, often and beautifully, for everyone to hear.