Charlene was a deeply sensitive artist who loved animals and nature. She had a close bond with her mother, Dorothy Matko who is also buried at Hart Island (plot 333-section 1, grave 5). They lived together in a small apartment at 1 Arden Street in the Inwood section of New York City’s upper Manhattan until Dorothy’s passing in 2008. Charlene the continued living in the apartment alone.
For four years in the 1970s, she was my grade-school babysitter while my parents worked full-time, and she became close with my family. As I progressed into adulthood, we stayed in touch for over three decades up until a few months before her passing.
Charlene was a talented oil painter and a deeply spiritual person. She attended grade school at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs at 71 Arden Street, and regularly visited the church to pray and light candles for her loved ones.
She was charming, outgoing, witty, and very beautiful with a creative, elegant fashion style. Her father died when she was a teenager and she often spoke of missing him, confident that one day they would be reunited.
She married Felix Otoso in New York City in 1973 but they divorced a few years later and had no children. Charlene was devoted to her mother, her art, and her beloved dogs Sidney and Butch.
As a child, I recall looking forward to her smiling face when she picked me up from school. She took me to art museums and on nature walks to local parks, and much of our time was spent working on craft projects,. She inspired my love of animals, nature, and art, and was instrumental in building my creativity and confidence to pursue my career in architecture.
I met my husband in college and we moved to Fort Lee, New Jersey, across the Hudson River from Charlene’s neighborhood. I took a job at a New York City architecture firm, and visited Charlene on my way back from monthly meetings with one of my clients nearby. She was always eager to hear about my life and career progression, and we spent many hours talking and laughing.
In the year prior to her passing, I noticed what seemed to be a growing sadness stemming from grief she expressed at missing her parents. She talked about feeling isolated in her apartment, and our calls became less frequent with increasingly long periods before she returned my messages.
I will never forget the day in 2016 when I called and got a recording that her number had been disconnected. I stopped by her apartment and was surprised to find she no longer lived there. The new tenant who answered the door told me she had recently moved, but did not know her whereabouts. Several weeks later, I received a voice mail message from her, from a phone number I did not recognize. She said that she was staying with a friend and using the friend’s cell phone. I sensed anxiety in her voice and she mentioned that she had lost her apartment. I tried calling back several times but there was no answer. The memory of that message haunts me to this day and I wish I had not missed her call.
I learned of her passing several months later, after searching online and finding her listed in the Hart Island directory. I was shocked and saddened. To this day I don’t know what happened to her or what circumstances led to her life ending in a New York City hospital with no recorded birth date.
I don’t presume to know what exists beyond this life, but I hope she is reunited with her parents and her dogs, no longer lonely, adorning heaven with her beautiful paintings.
For four years in the 1970s, she was my grade-school babysitter while my parents worked full-time, and she became close with my family. As I progressed into adulthood, we stayed in touch for over three decades up until a few months before her passing.
Charlene was a talented oil painter and a deeply spiritual person. She attended grade school at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs at 71 Arden Street, and regularly visited the church to pray and light candles for her loved ones.
She was charming, outgoing, witty, and very beautiful with a creative, elegant fashion style. Her father died when she was a teenager and she often spoke of missing him, confident that one day they would be reunited.
She married Felix Otoso in New York City in 1973 but they divorced a few years later and had no children. Charlene was devoted to her mother, her art, and her beloved dogs Sidney and Butch.
As a child, I recall looking forward to her smiling face when she picked me up from school. She took me to art museums and on nature walks to local parks, and much of our time was spent working on craft projects,. She inspired my love of animals, nature, and art, and was instrumental in building my creativity and confidence to pursue my career in architecture.
I met my husband in college and we moved to Fort Lee, New Jersey, across the Hudson River from Charlene’s neighborhood. I took a job at a New York City architecture firm, and visited Charlene on my way back from monthly meetings with one of my clients nearby. She was always eager to hear about my life and career progression, and we spent many hours talking and laughing.
In the year prior to her passing, I noticed what seemed to be a growing sadness stemming from grief she expressed at missing her parents. She talked about feeling isolated in her apartment, and our calls became less frequent with increasingly long periods before she returned my messages.
I will never forget the day in 2016 when I called and got a recording that her number had been disconnected. I stopped by her apartment and was surprised to find she no longer lived there. The new tenant who answered the door told me she had recently moved, but did not know her whereabouts. Several weeks later, I received a voice mail message from her, from a phone number I did not recognize. She said that she was staying with a friend and using the friend’s cell phone. I sensed anxiety in her voice and she mentioned that she had lost her apartment. I tried calling back several times but there was no answer. The memory of that message haunts me to this day and I wish I had not missed her call.
I learned of her passing several months later, after searching online and finding her listed in the Hart Island directory. I was shocked and saddened. To this day I don’t know what happened to her or what circumstances led to her life ending in a New York City hospital with no recorded birth date.
I don’t presume to know what exists beyond this life, but I hope she is reunited with her parents and her dogs, no longer lonely, adorning heaven with her beautiful paintings.