I barely knew you. Though I met you many times, I barely knew you. And yet, I loved you so much. You made an impression on me that will never be forgotten, that is the impression of a very strong and loving woman in a frail, thin-as-air body. I can remember your smile, your smell, and the hats you wore when there was someplace nice to go, and your southern accent, because of what you have left me, I will never forget you. I like to picture you now, probably living your childhood again, running barefoot through a field of cotton, passing the workers as you go by, and yelling:"wait up, now!" I like to picture you in a big old dining room in a house behind the field, looking out the window, counting the clouds that go by, I can see you dipping your fat toe in the Missisipi. I remember a time when I was'nt around, and I see you bravely following Bucky throughout South America, along with two little girls, without ever complaining, enjoying the stay. And boy, was your stay a good one. When someone that has been around that long goes, it's as if an important element in the scenery had gone missing, much like if someone stole the moon to keep for himself. You meant the moon to us, Dottie, and you will be missed as much as we would miss the moon. Wherever you are, know that everyone loves and misses you.
September 15, 2012