"In Memory of Dorothy aka Dot"

One of my first clients in the area was a wee sprite by the name of Dorothy aka Dot.  She weighed 100 plus pounds and stood a whopping 5' 2".  However, her personality and attitude were a striking contrast to her physical stature. 

Dorothy  always greeted me with "Ladonna--that means the lady, you know" and her wonderful smile.  She praised my strength as I took my mower from the truck, even though a ramp makes that easy. My Calvin Klein sweatshirt was "stylish," even though it is at least a dozen years old and tattered and torn.  She was ever present as I mowed her "meadow," her back yard which had more wild stuff growing than grass. 

Her favorite was to work beside me.  Those times are the memories of laughter and conversation.  She told of growing up in Queens in New York City as "Dot, the youngest of four children."  She regaled me with tales of traveling to Colorado cross country alone as a young woman and attending school there, an experience which opened her up to a wider world.  She talked of meeting her husband and a marriage which lasted over 50 years; the horrific loss of a daughter in a car accident; the treasure and pleasure of another daughter whom she called "Dr. Bergquist, the younger," one who is director of the composition program in the English department at the local university. 

Dorothy's great love and talent was voice.  She was a professional singer, song-writer, and teacher.  Oh, the songs she sang in the garden. 

This lady had a sense of humor, a great wit, and the most wonderful laugh to go along with it.  She loved puns.  Whenever I countered one of her puns, she rolled with laughter.  At her memorial service, tears rolled and heads nodded when the minister spoke of Dorothy's laugh.  It was just so bold and rich.

Over the years I worked for her, things began to change.  The diagnosis was Alzheimer's.  "Have I told you that I have Alzheimer's?" she would ask quite regularly.  "I think you have mentioned that, Dorothy," I'd respond, and we would continue in the garden.  Dorothy dealt with that verdict the way she dealt with life.  She didn't whine or complain, and she continued to laugh.  She felt she had less to think about if she couldn't remember and she trusted those who cared for her.  Her attitude was amazing.  There was only one time I know of that she really got buckled at the knees.  "They" took away her car.  Now the decision was a necessary one, but Dorothy loved to drive, and it was a difficult adjustment to make.  Before long, though, she concluded having a chauffeur had its advantages, and her positive attitude took over once again.

Dorothy began having respiratory issues.  Her energy level was down, she tired quickly, and breathing was difficult.  An aggressive lymphoma was causing fluid around her lungs.  There was no treatment.  When she was told of the prognosis, her response was "Wonderful!"....and she meant it.  She knew what the Alzheimers' road held for her, and she was fully prepared and anxious for this life to come to its end.  She believed in God, in life after death, an eternity in Heaven.  I am quite sure she had lived in anticipation of a reunion with Emily, her daughter as well.  I went to visit Dorothy in the hospital just after that final verdict had come down.  There was no gloom in that room, no despondency, only happiness and peace.  We laughed, we talked, and when I hugged her and gave her a kiss goodbye I made her promise that she would be waiting for me in the next life.  She passed away within days.

I was thinking about Dorothy today.  She is one of those who bears out my position that there is no substitute, no replacement for any of us.  And even though she isn't physically here, I still hear her loudly and clearly.  What a way to live!  What a way to die!