I picked up Dorothy's mail today at Kelso Villa. A very small errand I was glad to do for her daughter, MaryJo.

While chatting with one of the nurses who had looked after my sister in law, I kinda surprised myself and started to cry. Had only been back once there since she died but a flood of memories washed over me and although I thought I had got all cried out at the funeral last month, just saying I am going to miss her seemed to open the flood gates again.

All the nurses there are great and several said they would also miss her.
"She was feisty," said one, "but we enjoyed her." Another recalled that if it hadn't been for her there would not be an ice machine, a perk she lobbied for last summer.

Thinking about some of the good times we had together over the past 50 years, memories of her Jack and my Larry, the four of us, flashed by again.
There's no one left to reminisce about dancing the night away, sharing a hot tub or even arguing about words and pronunciations.

Who can I talk to now about our youngest children, born just five months apart? I remember the first time we sat the girls on her kitchen table; they could barely sit up and we remarked then at the likeness of the cousins. Over the years we often exchanged news from one or the other as Tracy and MaryJo always kept in touch with each other, even when oceans apart.

I envied her ability to read music and am grateful she patiently taught me how to sing alto by ear.

Oh dear, there are so many things I am thankful for in having her in my life.

Goodbye, dear Dorothy.