Today I remember my friend, Dora.I met Dora years ago through activities at my
church.This makes total sense, since
she was one of those dependable servants of God who served in many functions
over the years.She and I were working
as catechists during her last five years or so, and our paths crossed
continuously for different reasons.I
always looked forward to her smile and that ever-so-constant twinkle in her
eye.We had a special relationship, she
and I!I always teased her about her
accumulation of years, and she teased me for my lack thereof.I was the only person allowed to call her an “old
bat,” because it was always said with a smile and heartfelt love.She always laughed and hugged me and then
gave me back what I had just dished out.
Dora was one of those dedicated people who spent her life
serving others.Her husband had died before
I met her, so she had plenty of time on her hands and spent it well.She worked with people going through
bereavement, and often volunteered to say the rosary at the viewings of
deceased parishioners.She was a
chaplain at a local hospital and served on various parish and community
committees.She and I shared a strong
desire to educate our fellow parishioners about their faith, and we shared a
lot of opinions.I enjoyed our talks
about our faith and how well (or not) certain students were doing.Dora had accumulated, along with her
abundance of years, an abundance of wisdom, and I was always ready to absorb
some of what she knew.
The last time I saw Dora was several months ago, and I asked
how she was doing.Over the years she
had undergone multiple medical treatments to unclog her carotid arteries, and
she had survived breast cancer many years ago, before we met.She had developed a dowager’s hump as well,
but she always smiled and carried on her rather proper way.I never saw her without her lipstick and
make-up, and her hair was always done.So there she was, dressed up for church, and her response to my question
was that some preliminary tests indicated that she might have pancreatic
cancer.My blood ran cold and for once I
was speechless.What do you say at that
time?I wished her well and asked her to
let me know if I could help.
Shortly afterwards, I stopped at her house, but she was not
home.I found out from a friend at
church that she had moved in with her daughter on the north side of town during
her treatment.I also found out that she
had brain cancer.I knew, though I tried
to deny it, that I would not see my friend alive again.Those accumulated years that I had teased her
about were not working in her favor anymore.I sent her a few cards to wish her well, but I heard that she was tired
and losing ground and spent much of her time sleeping and recovering from her
chemotherapy and radiation treatments.
My dear friend died on Christmas day.We found out at mass the following Sunday,
and when the announcement was made there was a sigh from the congregation.When I went to church for the recitation of
her rosary, I could not help but think back on her work in this area.I did not go to see her in her casket, though
I could make out the purple hat and its satin ribbon that she wore to cover the
loss of her beautiful white hair, and I could see that she still wore her red
lipstick.I wanted to remember her as I
had always seen her – with the knowing smile and that ever-present twinkle in
her eye, bustling off to do some errand or other.
Good bye, my dear friend!You will be missed, but I look forward to seeing you again someday.
