Dotsy

She was like LeBron or Kobe, Madonna or Prince. Known simply as Dotsy.

Her name was not a noun but an adjective. Not a designation but a description. A history, a universe unto itself.

In the lyrics of Stephen Sondheim, "Maria" brought music to the ears and prayer to the lips. And while I have none of his ease of phrase  I can say that there was both beauty and  majesty in "Dotsy".

Each year on her birthday, I try to give her my love, to let her know how grateful I was. How grateful I am. 

Tomorrow she would have been 105. Or 104. Or maybe even 101. Depending on the way the light shined on those numbers. But for me, for my sister and for those of us who remember her the best, she was forevermore 39 and holding.

My grandchildren have the great gift of 3 great-grandmothers in their lives. Only my mom is not there to bear witness. If she were still here, I fear she would have swallowed them whole with her love.

We never really get past the loss of those we hold closest to our heart. The pain may recede with the passage of time but there is a hole in our soul that can never be repaired.

I think of you every day Mom. I speak of you whenever I can.  I miss you.

I miss Dotsy.