She could never say goodbye after we visited. As we parted at the airport gate, whether in Pittsburgh or St. Pete, she would hug me and say, “I don’t like goodbyes so I’m just going to say see ya for coffee.”

Dottie, eight years older than me, was the youngest of my older cousins, all of whom I looked up to, but especially adored her. She was pretty, witty, and a lot of fun for a little kid to be around and close enough in age to relate to. Back in the 1950’s, generations of families lived in the same neighborhood — across the street, up the street, down the street, at the other end of our small town within easy walking distance. A few ventured a tad further to the next little town 5 minutes away, but basically no one moved away from the general area. We all gathered on Grandma’s porch, or crowded into her tiny house during winter’s cold days, for after school visits, family celebrations, special occasions, or just to hang out for no specific reason. We all just about lived there. We grew up surrounded by love, laughter and fun, blessed with an extended support system of parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins!

So, Dottie and I were together all the time and it was just a given she would be swinging on Grandma’s porch with me forever. Even if she grew up, got married and had kids, I assumed she would live just up the street. That assumption shattered when her family moved to Florida, a place a five year old never heard of and whose mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend the distance and concerned she would never see them again. Traveling such distances during that era primarily was by commercial airplane or a longer slower train track. Faced with limited travel budgets at both ends, our main source of keeping in touch was by phone — a rudimentary “party-line” system with several families sharing one phone line. Costly calls were rationed and made only during less expensive off hours like nights and weekends. We relied heavily on handwritten letters and cards and truly treasured every minute of the occasional visits made by the Florida family to Pittsburgh..

Much to my delight, Dottie spent her high school summers here in Pittsburgh. Although our eight year age difference evolved into a more significant one with a little kid not able to frequent the favorite hangouts of teenagers, we remained close and spent a lot of time together. We did have different music preferences though. I liked Perry Como and, perhaps, sang “Hot Diggity” many more times than she cared to hear. I, on the other hand, did not like Elvis, whom she listened to endlessly on the radio. In our later years, musical tastes merged as we both escaped this crazy world driving down the highway singing to SiriusXM 50’s Gold — Dottie crooning with Perry in St. Pete and me rocking with Elvis in Pittsburgh. Who would have thought back in the day?!

As I aged and our status as adults became one, we vacationed back and forth as time, money and work permitted. Brief visits or extended stays, it was a time for fun, catching up, reminiscing, making new memories, crying together over challenging or sad times and, at other times, laughing so hard we couldn’t stop. Years passing, life changing and aging decreased the flights between north and south, leaving us to keep in touch with weekly phone calls. Like in person get togethers, we laughed, cried, reminisced, solved the problems of the world, ranted about pet peeves and wondered how the craziness of the world around us came to be. We always found hope and comfort in turning the clock of our minds back to childhood and the security and saneness of Grandma’s porch built on a foundation of family love.

A funny, feisty, independent character, the stories of the escapades of a somewhat “adventurous” childhood spirit always elicited hearty laughter, rolled eyes and thanks for survival from herself and aunts and uncles who assisted her single mother in shepherding her through those younger years. As one of those aunts, my mom can tell more than a story or two of rescuing Dottie and playing partner in crime in the coverup.

Over the years, mom, Dottie and I always ended our three-way conversations with “Luv ya. Laku noce,” the latter being a lifelong tradition saying good night in our ancestral Croatian language. In recent months, after Dottie received a terminal medical prognosis, those endings took on even more significance. To her credit, she maintained her sense of humor, the conversation almost always ending with all three of us laughing. In many ways, it seemed just like it had always been. But, there were the serious moments facing what was ahead, giving thanks for a blessed life and being grateful for the neighbors who helped tend to her needs as well as the opportunity to have the time to tell people she loved them and thank them for the role they played in her life. How many among us get that gift? She often summed up life with “You come in and you eventually go out. That’s how it works.”

She was excited about turning 80 on her upcoming birthday and eagerly anticipated its arrival for months before its September date. Her big day was filled with phone calls, visits, cards, treats and gifts from morning till evening — truly a special beautiful day of celebration. She had happily reached her goal, but the phone calls suddenly became much shorter and the obvious weakness in her voice and labored breathing told you this one could be the last call. A few weeks after her birthday, in the middle of storm preparations for a major hurricane hit, she was evacuated to a hospital for the care and attention she required at that point. The day after a hurricane changed track, sparing her family and their homes, she and God decided it was time to go out.

It’s difficult to say goodbye to someone you love, even when it is expected, but you are thankful the person is at peace and grateful for the mark they left on your life and treasured memories you forged together. There will be tears, but there will be laughter as well when a memory pops in out of the blue. She had a great sense of humor and would want us to laugh more than cry. I know I will have to stop myself from calling her and with winter peeking around the corner, I will miss her calls telling me it was 70 in St. Pete when she knew darn well it was freezing and snowing in Pittsburgh or she dramatically said she was freezing because it was “only” 50 degrees down there. I would pretend to be annoyed, refusing to extend any compassion and then we would both break up laughing. I will miss that mischievous hearty laugh. And, I know there will be times when something magically coincidental crosses my path and I will know she just might have had a hand in that. In fact, it happened yesterday, just hours after she left us. Driving along on a dreary rainy day with a mood to match, I turned on Sirius XM and Perry Como was singing, followed immediately by Elvis rocking his heart out. I couldn’t help but smile, looking up to Heaven, saying “Dottie, I know that was you!” Later that evening, a cousin sent a photo and text, totally convinced that evening’s stunningly awesome sunset was Dottie saying goodbye.

So, Dottie, in the words of Bob Hope from back in the day, “Thanks for the memories!”

Luv Ya! Laku Noce! See ya for coffee!

Peace,
Kathy Marie