Adaline Wakefield

Adaline �Addy� Anderson Wakefield, 87, a lifetime Cuba resident, was called home to be with her Lord and Savior on Friday (June 21, 2013) while residing at The Pines Healthcare and Rehabilitation Center, Olean. Born Aug. 19, 1925, in Tidioute, Pa., she was a daughter of Carl Albin and Julia Rhetta Kelsey Anderson. Addy was one of the first nurses� aides at Cuba Memorial Hospital. For more than 20 years, she worked in various capacities of nursing including obstetrics, intensive care, long-term care and the medical/surgical units. She later retired from HomeCare & Hospice of Western New York. After that, she helped raise her grandson, Kelsey Michael Boudin, before entering The Pines in 2005. Addy�s friends and family will always remember her sense of humor and ability to rise above adversity in the toughest of times. She raised her three children alone, all of whom served in the U.S. military during the Vietnam War. She is survived by her oldest son, Jeffrey (Barbara) Anderson of Panama City, Fla., her only daughter, Jane (Frank Meredith) Boudin of Olean and her youngest son, Joel (Alice) Vanik of Cuba. She is also survived by eight grandchildren, including special grandson, Kelsey; 12 great-grandchildren; one great-granddaughter; a sister, LaVanice �Bibby� Bryant of Erie, Pa.; 11 nieces and nephews; and a brother-in-law, Frank Wojtecki of Union City, Pa. She was predeceased by one brother, Carl Anderson Jr., who passed away in childhood; and five sisters, Amy (Orie) Smith, Alma (Norman) Kimes, Alena (Johnny) Neizmik, Alice Wojtecki and Carol Anne (Chuck) Christian. Visitation will be held Sunday (June 23, 2013) from noon to 2 p.m. at the Letro-McIntosh-Spink Funeral Home Inc., 24 Genesee Parkway, Cuba. A funeral service will follow at the funeral home with the Rev. Dennis Durfee officiating. Burial will be at the convenience of the family. Memorials may be made to HomeCare & Hospice, 1225 W. State St., Olean, NY 14760. Online condolences may be expressed by clicking on the button above. Tribute from Kelsey Grandma touched more lives than she knew My grandmother�s life story, like most, is quite unremarkable. Adaline Wakefield was an everywoman, but that�s where her tale gets its charm. I grew up in Cuba with my Mom and Grandma. She was my second mother. But now Grandma�s gone, passed away early Friday morning. She loved unconditionally, though disappointing her wasn�t an option. She was quiet and used wise words sparingly. Over time, that had greater power because she only spoke if it was important. Raising me, Grandma preferred to let life take its course. Her long, average life was made exceptional by touching more lives than she ever knew. Grandma was born Aug. 19, 1925, in Tidioute, Pa., to Carl Albin and Julia Rhetta Kelsey Anderson, she was one of seven girls and a boy. They grew up dirt poor in northwestern Pennsylvania�s rattlesnake country. Her father was a railroad man. He lost his arm in a freak accident on the job, which in those days merited pitiful compensation and a trip to the unemployment line. He had mouths to feed and was likely a heavy drinker. Life was rough growing up in the Great Depression, but Grandma told me when I was young that she fondly remembered her childhood. She dreamed of picking the wild strawberries. Her brother, Carl Jr., died at age 7 of typhoid. Grandma and her sister LaVanice also were deathly ill with the fever. My great-grandmother skipped little Carl�s funeral to be with her girls. Ironically enough, Grandma and Aunt �Bibby� -- as we call her -- survived and outlived the rest of their siblings. As an adult, Grandma was a caregiver. She was a career nurses� aide, one of the first at Cuba Memorial Hospital. She delivered babies, bandaged wounds and cared for geriatric patients. She walked several miles to and from work each day. She was a mother. Mostly alone and poor, she raised Mom and her two brothers, Jeff and Joel, between abusive marriages. Grandma simply did what she needed to do when she needed to do it. She was a working woman long before women in the workplace became kosher. She earned a pittance, but she persevered and now her descendants are alive and thriving. In its essence, is that not the ultimate measuring stick for a successful life? Besides raising me, she was a surrogate grandmother to many of my closest friends. An only child, I seemed to collect a multitude of �friend/brothers� who�d visit my house once and never leave. I love them for that. She loved them for that. Grandma is Grandma to many more grandchildren than the eight listed in her obituary. Grandma only completed the ninth grade. She had difficulty comprehending her Bible, though that never affected her ironclad faith. She wasn�t afforded an opportunity to further her education, so she relished watching her kids, grandkids and extended grandkids graduate. Alas, making her wait so long to witness my Bonaventure graduation was a travesty. Mom believes she held on so long for just that moment -- it was her last reasonable expectation in life. It sounds cliche, but later in life Grandma found peace in the simple things. She was a terrific cook. She loved holding babies. She loved gardens. She loved watching her soap operas. Most would say, �Hey, that figures,� but in her case that�s a compliment. Her humble interests and characteristics defined a life well lived and thoroughly enjoyed. There was no one in this world more proud of what I do for a living. She didn�t understand most of what I�ve written, but I would visit her at the nursing home and there would always be a copy of the latest paper near her chair, folded open to my byline. �How are you feeling today?� I�d ask. �Shhh! I�m reading a very important story,� she�d smirk. That story wasn�t important. Few of them are. But to her, regardless of understanding, they were treasured gold. Truth be told, just before she passed I was at a bar. I�d be the last to acknowledge premonitions or sixth senses, but standing outside the State King and socializing didn�t pique the usual interest. I needed to leave, to walk the three blocks home and didn�t know why. Turned out, I arrived home just in time to field a call from Mom. �Grandma�s unresponsive,� she said. Grandma was 87, and in the poorest health for the better part of a decade, so Mom and I were accustomed to late-night trips to The Pines nursing home. Each of those seemingly countless times we thought it was over. We were prepared, but she�d always snap out of her deathly respiratory fits and be finishing a crossword puzzle by morning. This time, a nurse met me outside. �Addy passed about 10 minutes after 2,� she said. �She went so fast.� Thank God. After years of struggle she earned a painless way out. I arrived well before Mom did, thankfully, because I�d rather bear the bad news. Better me than anyone else. Mom�s been through enough. A registered nurse, she personally saw to Grandma�s care before and after entering the nursing home around 2005. It was physically and emotionally taxing, but Mom did it lovingly and faithfully as long as I can remember. She�s a saint for that. Of course, the feeling was surreal. The love between Grandma and I was incredibly strong. I found her Bible and read Psalm 23, though I didn�t feel qualified. And in a tear-filled haze, I couldn�t help but wonder about that premonition. Was someone speaking to me? I�ll ask next time I see her. (Kelsey M. Boudin, a Times Herald reporter, can be reached at kboudin@oleantimesherald.com. Follow him on Twitter, @KelseyMBoudin)