My mother Dorothy passed away this week. She was ninety-two. Her passing was expected and it was peaceful. But that doesn’t make it any less painful.
I was looking through some of my parents’ old papers last night and I came across a one-page tribute that my father (an avid jogger who passed away this summer) wrote for my mother for their fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration twenty years ago. It’s a fitting tribute. So this is a guest post written posthumously by my father.
I want to thank each and every one today for helping us celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary.
Dorothy is the master of ceremonies today, but this ceremony is for her, the master. In the Olympics, Carl Lewis was hoping to be the first one earning 10 gold medals. But alas, Dorothy just beat him out.
Her medals are invisible because they are coming from my heart. They are:
#1 Gold medal for best travel agent.
#2 Gold medal for best highway navigator.
#3 Gold medal for best mind reader.
#4 Gold medal for best budget maker.
#5 Gold medal for best psychiatrist.
#6 Gold medal for best homemaker.
#7 Gold medal for being a model mom.
#8 Gold medal for being my love.
#9 Gold medal for being my wife.
#10 Gold medal for putting up with me for 50 years.
(The script here says, “Tell her you love her and give her a big kiss.”)
I love you XXXX
(Hold her hand and raise her arm.)
I recall that he really did kiss her, and then he raised her arm at the end of his speech, like they’d finished a big race together.
In the end, they both crossed the finish line of life not far from each other.
We will miss you, mom.