Happy Birthday

I was going to write something happy and upbeat but the truth is.... I'm not happy! I'm sad and angry! I feel robbed. You were the best part of this family. I should be able to call you right now and sing you happy birthday. I miss you so much....... Happy Birthday Dotyn. I love you. :'(

Late-Night Baking

I'm up in the middle of the night baking cakes for a party, and I've been thinking of you the whole time. I remember you, Keisha and I would stay up to make the cakes and pies for Thanksgiving and Christmas. At first you led, and as years went by you'd supervise, and eventually you let us take over. You'd tell us that we had perfected your recipes. Thinking about it now, I realize you were telling us you were proud of us...

Thank you for giving us this gift. For the recipes. For the memories. For the chance to pass something wonderful down to our children. Thank you.

P.S. I referred to you in the present-tense tonight. When Tony asked why I don't use a hand mixer to blend the batter, I replied, "because Dotyn says not to".

You are with me every day.

Spontaneous Tears

Dear Dotyn,

I'm sorry its been a while since I've written. I still think about you every day. There are so many things that cause my thoughts to wander towards you.

Sometimes I'm not thinking about anything in particular, but I start to cry anyway. All it takes is to feel the breeze in a certain way, or to hear a certain sound. Random smells and tastes can do it too.

The other day, I was near the end of a run when it happened. Or, more specifically, *you* happened... My iPod shuffled to a song I know you've never heard before. The lyrics and melody didn't particularly remind me of you either. But there I was, running on the street, suddenly in tears.

At the time, I was quite happy. I was exhausted, but thrilled about my run. And the song was uplifting and motivating me to finish strong.

...And then grief.

Since you passed, I've had more moments of happiness mixed with sadness -- and seemingly spontaneous tears -- than ever before in my life.

Maybe its because I'd grown used to sharing my moments of joy with you. And now I can't in the same way that I used to.

Or maybe it's because, when it comes to happiness and sadness, one cannot exist without the other.

Maybe you are my first real reminder of that.

More on your phone number...

737-8222... Keisha is right. I can't recall a phone number more meaningful.

It was your phone number for longer than I can remember. And as long as I live, I doubt I'll ever forget it. As a matter of fact, I've used it as a password for my office phone for years. Did I ever tell you that?

I recently had a dream that I dialed your number and you answered. We talked for a while. I told you that I missed you, but that I was glad we could communicate this way. I asked you if you were happy, and you said "yes".

Just like you, your number is impossible to forget. Probably because it was as reliable as you were. For the better part of 30 years, if that number rang, you answered -- night or day, for emergencies, or just to talk. My dream confirms just how much I wish that were true now.

Chances are, someone else has your number now. I'm sure they have no idea just how many people are longing to dial it.

Emergency contact

Today I had a follow up doctors appointment for my knee. I guess the clerk who checked me in wanted to make sure all my information was up to date. She started asking all the normal questions, address, phone, insurance info, and then she asked for my emergency contact.....  For half a second I started to say Dorothy Williams (773)-737-8222.  As I was telling her my new emergency contact, I thought about the fact that I'd used you as my contact for 25+ yrs. You were always home and always answered the phone.

Beautiful

Over 10yrs ago you switched perfumes, and every Sunday before church I knew you were just about ready to go because I'd smell the faint fragrance of your Estee Lauder Beautiful. And every Christmas when I'd ask you what you wanted your gift to be, you'd look over on your nightstand and say "well, I'm almost out of beautiful". On July 19, I found myself in Macy's, at the Estee Lauder counter with the tester bottle of beautiful in hand. With one smell, you where there too.

Jack Remembers...

This morning, Jack -- who usually sleeps through the night -- woke up at 2:30 AM and cried for 5 minutes.

It was at 2:30, one year ago today, that I got the first call that you died.

Jack was only 10 days old.

While nursing him that morning, I wept over his head.

He is too young to know what he remembers, but I do.