Pamela Jean “Kate” Maxwell Wyatt, age 75, passed away July 27, 2021, in her beloved hometown of Fort Worth.
She was preceded in death by her parents, Mary Eugenia “Jeanne” Maxwell and Ernest Jackson “Jack” Maxwell.
She is survived by her children, Lisa Wyatt Roe and Brett Jackson Wyatt, Sr. (Dawn); seven grandchildren she called “my sweeties” – Sarah Wyatt, Brandon Mitchell (Kacie), Lori Spicer (Timmy), Jack Wyatt, Luke Roe, Josh Wyatt and Theo Roe; and four great-grandchildren – Bentley Lee, Rylie Everhart, Leighton Everhart and JJ Montoya.
While her family knew her as Pam, her friends knew her as Kate, the name she chose as an adult, inspired by her favorite poem, “My Kate,” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
As a psychologist in private practice beginning in 1984, Kate aimed for a holistic approach on her quest to understand and transform the emotional and relational lives of people, including herself. She received her B.A. and M.A. at Texas Christian University and her Ph.D. at the University of North Texas, all in psychology.
Kate was a world traveler, voracious reader and a spiritual seeker who explored the world’s religions, mythology, symbols and traditions with an endless curiosity. She especially loved reading and writing poetry, music, the fine arts and creating a home where she was surrounded by beautiful things. As the family genealogist, she enjoyed documenting six generations of family in Ft. Worth, as well as her Scottish and Irish heritage. She was a generous patron of the Japanese Gardens, TCU, art museums, the public library and more.
Kate cherished her many friends, who recall her remarkable intelligence, insight, individuality and enthusiasm for life. Her children are grateful for her passing on her love for books, music, art and travel. Her grandchildren are grateful for the time she spent with them making art, writing poetry and feeding the koi at the Japanese Gardens.
We know she entered the next passage of her life with more curiosity, wonder and awe than fear, beautifully captured in a favorite poem, Mary Oliver’s “When Death Comes”:
“I wanted to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
What is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility.”