Dear Dorothy,
. Well, I just got the call from Kate: you passed around six-ish on Monday, October 19, 2026.
What am I feeling? Profound sadness, of course—and a profound peace for you.
I hope life’s turmoil has fallen away now. I imagine you resting, looking back with new understanding, seeing what it all means from a place beyond hurt. I hope the anger has disappeared, too. I think it has. May your new space hold only peace, love, and understanding.
I am still with you, and you are still with me. I treasure the times we spent together and will never deny the special bond we shared. I know it will continue. Next week, when I am with Rick and the kids, I know I will feel your presence even more, woven through their stories and the love you left among them.
I remember you as sweet, optimistic, and fun. People are so complex, and you were more than any one part of your story. I always looked up to you and so admired your God given beauty inside and out. I hope you can now see your life whole, with tenderness for all you endured and all that made you who you were.
When I see two yellow butterflies, I will think of you and me—still connected somewhere in another dimension, finding each other in a different way.
This may be my last earthly letter to you, but it isn’t the end of what joins us. I will carry our bond with me, Dorothy, and look forward to being together again somewhere in the vastness of the universe.
With love and gratitude for our relationship,
Debra
To my readers: I felt drawn to write this within an hour of hearing the news. Putting my love for Dorothy and the peace I feel for her into words helped soothe some of my sadness. I’m sharing it in case writing—or simply reading these words—offers comfort to someone else who is grieving.
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