Patricia Helen Buckstrup

Kevin's and my mother, the artist Patricia Buckstrup, died peacefully on 02/15/25 at Hudson Valley Hospice House. A very short illness was followed by several days of palliative care that Mom requested herself. My husband Dale, Kevin, and I had some beautiful moments and all "the good conversations" with Mom in her last days. We hope you enjoy the stories and photos here. Celebration of Life on June 7th 2025, a hybrid in-person+Zoom event; please see "Service" for details. -Michelle Sutton 

Snapshots from Mom's Life Story

Patricia Helen Weston was born in Seattle in 1944 to Helen and Al Weston. She was the third child of five: Gladys, Marge, Mom, Albert (Albie), and Mark. I asked what it was like having that many kids in a modest-sized house. “It was normal to me. I loved my family,” she said. Family trips to Lake Washington were the highlight of her childhood and sparked her lifelong love of being near and in the water. 

Mom's father Al played the piano for the family, which Mom loved. She and her dad were close. Mom’s mother Helen balanced so much on her shoulders—she kept the family humming along, no matter what. Mom said, "I loved visiting my [father's sister] Aunt Nell; she was an exceptionally kind and loving person. She had a big garden where I could pull and eat fresh carrots and pick sugar snap peas and raspberries. It was a magical place." Mom graduated Franklin HS '62.

Mom met my father, Ken Buckstrup, in Washington DC when she was living on Capitol Hill with other women who were working for Congress. Mom worked for Senator Henry "Scoop" Jackson, a progressive, longtime Democrat for the State of Washington. My father had come back from the Peace Corps to train new volunteers. My mother and father married and had intended to be world-travelers and internationalists before having children, but I and my younger brother Kevin came along in quick, unplanned succession; my parents adjusted their life plan! We lived the first four years of my life in Alexandria, Virginia, then moved to Falls Church, Virginia where we lived in a sweet little 1940s(?) brick house on the corner. Mom made fast friends with the Beckers next door, especially Lois Becker and her son Kevin. Kevin Becker babysat us kids, looked out for us, was a supportive and constant friend to Mom, and made us all laugh. 

Mom set about making our home the neighborhood hub for kids. Ping-pong table in the basement, board games, food always out for the taking. She worked part-time to be there when Kevin and I came home from school. She took us to Lee Graham swimming pool most summer days and bobbed around in the pool with us. “I wanted to have fun with you kids!” she'd say. That said, to get some desperately needed time for herself, Mom took art classes at NOVA community college. This helped sustain her amid the chaos of raising two small children. It also stoked her passion for the great love of her life: art. 

Mom worked for many years as a graphic designer, first doing cut-and-paste work on a drafting table. When our family got an early-model PC, Mom spent more time at the computer than any of us, learning word processing and computer-aided graphic design. (Fun fact: she could type 115 words a minute!) When I was about six years old, our parents sought a religious home and found the Unitarian Universalist Church of Arlington, VA, a large congregation. It was there that I met one of my two lifelong best friends, Julie Childers (Wilson).

Unitarian Universalism is rooted in the Judeo-Christian tradition. It is a religious tradition that places covenants-core values about the way we treat each other and our larger human family-over rigid belief systems. UUs never say, "Ours is the only way." UUism welcomes people of all religious (or areligious) backgrounds. Social justice is a cornerstone of Unitarianism, as is learning about the world's religions and cultures. Growing up Unitarian was formative for me and remains a big part of my identity. I thank my parents for this world-opening gift.

My parents split in 1993-a painful time, yes, but a portal through which tremendous growth awaited my mother. Mom went to weekly Parents without Partners dances and had a blast dancing and flirting. She met her boyfriend there-Bill Hutchins, who grew up in Poughkeepsie. They had three years together before, sadly, Bill died. More grieving for Mom. However, Mom always faced life's losses head-on with help from therapists and friends. Her love of life grew ever stronger. She stayed in touch with Bill's wonderful daughter, Renee. 

Mom lived for about ten years in Colonial Beach, Virginia, where the Potomac River is ~2 miles wide. She bought a sweet if a bit dilapidated cottage from her friend Nancy, a few blocks from the water. She began a long-term relationship with Dick, who was very good to my Mom. Dick lived in Washington DC, so she would stay with him when she drove up to Northern Virginia to work. She loved her dual-locale life: being in familiar DC with her boyfriend, but also having abundant alone time in Colonial Beach, where she painted, joined the local art league, gardened, and spent as much time by the Potomac as she could. 

A series of life events pushed Mom through another portal. She fell prey to a con-man who was supposed to renovate her house—he went to jail, but she didn’t get her money back. And, like so many people in and around 2008, her ballooning mortgage payment was unsustainable. She had to declare bankruptcy. She and Dick split up. “Mom, with all these endings, do you think now is the time for you to move up here, to the Hudson Valley?” I asked over the phone. "It’s beautiful here, there’s a wonderful Unitarian Fellowship, and Dale and I can help you more if you are closer.” She agreed it was time to make a change, though she was nervous to leave Virginia after 44 years. She was also quite worried about the New York winters, and about getting Lyme disease. (She managed the winters here beautifully, and she didn’t get Lyme disease!)

As soon as Mom and I caravanned up to the Hudson Valley with her stuff, Mom got involved in the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Poughkeepsie (UUFP), a portal to growth, community, love, and creativity. She rented a room from fellow UUFP Member Paul Kelly (now gone) and then from UUFP dynamo Pat Lamanna. Pat helped Mom get connected to local events like the Hudson Valley Folk Guild concerts. Mom had many peaceful and creative times in her space at Pat’s house. 

For five years-until she couldn’t safely drive anymore-Mom toured the Hudson Valley, solo and at a feverish pace. Dale and I got a kick out of this. She said, "I like to eat breakfast in New Paltz, and then lunch in Kingston!” So well-traveled was she, that whenever Dale and I suggested an outing, like “Mom, do you want to go to Storm King Art Center?” or “Mom, do you want to try Lola’s Café?" or “Mom, want to go check out Innisfree Gardens?” the answer was almost always: “I’ve been there!”

In 2013 Mom got to the top of the waiting list for a subsidized apartment at Saint Anna in Poughkeepsie. She lucked out with a wonderfully sunny, quiet, second-floor apartment, kind and caring neighbors, and plenty of nearby nature in a park-like setting. It was also just a few blocks from the UUFP, so she could walk when she could no longer drive. Over time, Mom’s living room became her art studio, with a small corner for TV watching, and my mattress leaned up against the wall. Our favorite TV shows to watch together on my stays there were Portrait Artist of the Year and Landscape Artist of the Year, after which she’d inevitably say, “This has given me so many new ideas of things I want to try.”

Mom gained tremendous inspiration from her membership with the Artists’ Collective of Hyde Park, where she got to socialize with artists and show her work year-round in ever-changing exhibits. ACHP folks, she admired you all; your work and your friendships were stimulating for her. Thank you for being so kind to my mother and giving her an art home.

Mom’s weekly online memoirs group was also huge for support-a place to process her many life experiences through free writing and reading aloud to one another. Thank you so much Lyn, Anne, Fran, Nancy, Paul, and others.

(cont'd below, and please scroll for photos!)

More about Mom

I want to tell you some of the things that Mom survived, and some things she loved. She believed in sharing her life experiences of all kinds, not just the happy ones.

My mother survived: divorce, the death of a partner, heartbreaks, a mental health crisis in her 30s, periodic episodes of depression throughout her life, a hip fracture and surgery, Type 2 diabetes, falls, a concussion that took years to heal from and left her with cognitive impairment for a time, the election in 2016 and 2024 of a man who hates us all, and last but certainly not freaking least—a global pandemic.

My mother loved: my brother Kevin and I and Kevin’s wife Erica. Playing Scrabble with Dale (she often said, “I feel so safe and comfortable with him.”) Spending time (and traveling to Italy!) with her beloved brother Al and sister-in-law Claudia. Soaking up the sun. The Hudson River. Vanilla ice cream. Goat cheese, salads, and dark chocolate. Gordon Lightfoot, Il Divo, and classical guitar and piano. Going to phenomenal free concerts at Vassar. Moving slow. Painting at Quiet Cove Park on the Hudson. The journals and memoirs of May Sarton. Sitting and dreaming. Staying up late and sleeping late. Her dear friends Tom and Barry, and Laura B. Going to art museums, making art, progressing as an artist. Chair yoga. Babies. Jimmy Kimmel. Her Netflix and YouTube accounts. The book The Art Spirit by Robert Henri. Virtual fireplaces. Her kind doctors, like Dr. Renita Butler, Mom’s internist; Dr. Tania Barreras-Cruz, Mom’s psychiatrist; and dermatology PA Lubna Latif. All of them were so sweet to my mother.

Mom loved her UUFP, Artists’ Collective of Hyde Park, and Memoirs communities dearly. She also relished seeing pictures of, and hearing stories about, her step-grandkids Dalia and Shane and their spouses, and her step-great-grandkids Hudson, Hunter, Henry, and Evelyn. She (and we!) had some great times at holiday meals hosted by my dynamo of a sister-in-law Marcia and her gracious daughter Lisa. Mom stayed close with her sister Marge's kids Lori and her wife Roz and Terry and his wife Jan, and she enjoyed hearing the news from the rest of the extended PNW family.  
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It’s dusk on a summer night in the 1970s. “Michelle and Kevin, it’s time to come in!” My mother is calling from the front porch of our family’s small corner house at 7220 Roosevelt Avenue in Falls Church. My brother and I have spent the day free-ranging the neighborhood on our bikes, playing touch football and wiffleball in the church yard across the street, roller-skating, and shooting hoops at the basketball court up the hill. Now it’s dark and my brother and I hear a more urgent, “MICHELLE AND KEVIN, IT’S TIME TO COME IN!!” Ok. We reluctantly wave goodbye to our friends for now. But we’re not sad, because home is safe and loving; it’s where our mother is. 💗

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