After Tatiana Schlossberg’s death, Caroline Kennedy focuses on her grandchildren

Caroline was five years old when her father, President John F. Kennedy, was assassinated.

© JOSEPH PREZIOSO

When Caroline Kennedy stepped out of the Church of St. Ignatius Loyola cradling her baby granddaughter in her arms, the image felt heartbreakingly familiar. More than six decades earlier, her own mother, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, had carried the burden of memory for two small children after history shattered their family.

Now, Caroline finds herself in that same role, determined to ensure that Tatiana Schlossberg’s children grow up knowing exactly who their mother was.

© Cover-ImagesThe Kennedy family are joined by politicians and powerful guests as they depart the funeral of Tatiana Schlossberg at The Church of St. Ignatius Loyola.

Tatiana died on Dec. 30 at age 35 after a fierce battle with a rare form of acute myeloid leukemia. She left behind her husband, George Moran, and their two children: Edwin, 3, and Josephine, just 1. The loss has reshaped the family’s future, placing Caroline, 68, at the center of preserving Tatiana’s presence in their lives.

© Getty ImagesCaroline was five years old when her father, President John F. Kennedy, was assassinated in 1963, and her brother John was just three.

“Caroline has to do the same thing her mother did with her and John, in raising those kids,” a family friend told Page Six. “To make sure they remember their mom — and she has the playbook.”

The parallels are impossible to ignore. Caroline was five years old when her father, President John F. Kennedy, was assassinated in 1963, and her brother John was just three.

© Cover-ImagesWhen Caroline Kennedy stepped out of the Church of St. Ignatius Loyola cradling her baby granddaughter in her arms, the image felt heartbreakingly familiar.

Their mother made it her mission to keep JFK’s memory alive through stories, photographs, and a careful stewardship of legacy. That same quiet resolve now guides Caroline as she supports her grandchildren.

Kennedy historian Steven M. Gillon explained to People. “Tatiana’s son is the same age that John was when he lost his dad. Tragically, history is repeating itself.” He added, “When you think about the losses Caroline has suffered, it was only [her brother] John that had suffered the same — and then she lost John. For Caroline, it’s a series of horrible personal tragedies that lead up to what may be the hardest of them all.”

© Karwai TangCaroline Kennedy, Tatiana Schlossberg and Jack Schlossberg

Tatiana’s funeral itself reflected that continuity. Held Jan. 5 at St. Ignatius Loyola on New York’s Upper East Side, the same church that hosted Jackie Kennedy’s funeral in 1994, the service brought together multiple generations of the extended Kennedy family.

Caroline arrived with her husband, Edwin Schlossberg, 80, and their children Rose, 37, and Jack, 32, while Tatiana’s widower, George Moran, walked ahead with Edwin and Josephine.

© TIMOTHY A. CLARYThe funeral of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis at St. Ignatius Loyola Roman Catholic Church in New York City 23 May 1994. To the left of the casket are Mrs. Onassis’ children John F. Kennedy Jr. and Caroline Kennedy Schlossberg.

Six days earlier, the family had announced her passing in a message shared by the JFK Library Foundation. “Our beautiful Tatiana passed away this morning. She will always be in our hearts.” The message was signed by “George, Edwin and Josephine Moran Ed, Caroline, Jack, Rose and Rory.”

During the final year of Tatiana’s illness, Moran and the children moved into Caroline and Edwin Schlossberg’s Park Avenue apartment as treatment left Tatiana increasingly vulnerable to infection. She lost 30 pounds and, at times, could not bathe or feed her infant daughter.

© Carlo BolloMore than six decades earlier, her own mother, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, had carried the burden of memory for two small children after history shattered their family.

“I couldn’t pick up my children,” Tatiana wrote in a deeply personal essay for The New Yorker published in November. Her greatest fear was not death itself, but erasure. She wondered whether Edwin might confuse his few memories of her “with pictures he sees or stories he hears.” Of Josephine, she reflected, “I don’t know who, really, she thinks I am, and whether she will feel or remember, when I am gone, that I am her mother.”