Rare and Wonderful

February 5, 2018

Greetings from the messenger,

It is a rare and wonderful thing for someone to ask you to write their obituary.  Of course it is awkward, given the timing.  And there is the responsibility to get it right, limited by the parameters you’ll one day find in your local paper, to boil down a person’s life into a few paragraphs.  And yet, there is something in it that resonates with me.

First, let me be clear there is no reason to write an obituary for Dorothy Boon.  She is in good health and good spirits and the day may never come that such an epistle should need to be published.  But, because she is who she is, a sensible and considerate person, she deemed it wise not to leave these things to when it’s least convenient.  And so she made the arrangements for her last departure so she could set it aside and get back to living.

So there it is, this double edged honor that is given to me the writer.  I’ll deal with that ultimately, but in truth even the best of obituaries are dry reminders of what we wanted to say before it was too late.  Never let those words rest long in your mind.

We love Dorothy. 

Dorothy C. Alexander Boon was born in Kansas City Missouri.  Somewhere in her formative years she learned the saxophone and decided on a career.  She became a nurse, an extension of the compassion she became known for.   She married Don and started a family.  And she moved with her family to a small town called Ludington, with no idea what that would lead to.  It’s impossible to imagine any other outcome.

She worked for thirty years as a nurse.  For many years she worked nights, coming home in time to give her six kids breakfast and send them to school, before sleeping just long enough to welcome them home when they finished the day.  She would give them dinner, be the Mom, and then when it was time for them to go to bed, she would head off to work. 

Life changed for her and she adapted.  She was a single mom before it was a demographic.  She kept raising her kids, kept her career, kept on doing what she did.  She served at her church, made outrageous quantities of Christmas cookies, knitted afghans for friends, and filled Ludington with an energy that is uniquely Dorothy.

What I know best about Dorothy is from the time she first intersected with my life.  She took me on as son-in-law with one interview and every year since she has been a blessing.  She has always been kind, positive and optimistic, qualities that have endured through more than her share of challenges.  She has been my friend, and just writing those words I realize how lucky I am.

She laughs in almost every sentence.  She is so filled with joy that it comes out in nearly all of her expressions.  It makes her playful, younger, and gives off an energy that makes you wish for whatever she is taking. 

She introduced us to Floyd, an icon in our lives.  They married and she and Floyd became synonymous with Ludington.  They started a new chapter late in their lives which for twenty years was a rare and wonderful experience.

She became Yaya to my children, and shared the honor of Proud Grandmother with more than a dozen, and already beginning the list of great grandchildren.  The more to share her name with the world.

Our lives blossomed with Dorothy.  Journeys to Ludington for Fourth of July or Christmas or birthdays, or for no reason at all, became milestone moments.  Flo and Do’s house was filled with noise and people and food and laughter and it seemed as though that’s what we did best.  Dorothy loves to be with the people she cares for.  Sometimes it’s making a turkey, sometimes it’s asking a little girl about her life, or a runner about his knees.  Sometimes it’s just laughing at a story or being surprised or just reading the paper and telling us what caught her attention.

At some place in most obituaries is a list of people who are left to mourn, as uninspiring as box scores or pork futures, mingled in with a person’s awards and community service.  It is a custom that was formed so that we knew to whom to extend our condolences, who among us suffered a loss that would inspire uncomfortable platitudes.

But today the list would not be made up of those to have sympathy for, but instead to envy.   The relatives and friends who have had Dorothy in their lives, and still do.  We are the lucky ones who should be greeted with; “I’m so happy to hear of your celebration.”

For those who would be on that list, and for everyone else, here is a rare and wonderful moment for you to embrace; it is too soon to grieve, too soon to miss Dorothy or wish you had said you loved her.  She is here, still filling that place in our lives that we too easily take for granted. 

She is still here, rare and wonderful.  Call her.  Send her flowers. In lieu of flowers, you can take her to Park Dairy for lunch.

On Thursday Dorothy C. Alexander Boon will celebrate her birthday.  We are blessed with the alternative to missing her, acknowledging the date with her memory; instead we have the opportunity to celebrate all of what we have loved for each day she has shared with us.  And we can tell her, and tell everyone.

You might not know Dorothy, but this made you think of someone, maybe a list of someones.  Today is the day you call them or write that note you meant to write.  Maybe you are reminded of the someone it’s too late to call; no better way to honor their memory than loving the next person you hold dear.

I mean no disrespect to the obituaries that are written every day.  They have their purpose, and one day I will approach that purpose with whatever gifts I can apply.  But until that day I am grateful and happy to be able to say the words that should never come too late.  We love Dorothy.

Hope this finds you embracing the rare and wonderful,

David

Copyright © 2018 David Smith