Dearest Dotti

Dear Dotti,

14 years have passed now since we saw your face. 14 years since we held you close in a warm embrace. 14 years since you laughed and smiled but your legacy goes on. We will continue to tell your story, now and forever. After all, there are so many of us.

10 children, 27 grandchildren, 58 great grandchildren, and 7 great great grandchildren. That was the count in your final hours. So many loved ones marked on a single stone. Loved ones who lived while you lived and who joined this world because of your courage and kindness.

I am inspired by your earlier days and the stories I have heard. In the time before washing machines were a given and your home was heated by flame. When summertime heat raged, but no cool respite of an air conditioner could be found. When most things were done by hand and the vegetables grew green and fresh in the garden, you raised 10 happy children and fostered the growth of 10 family lines.

Life was never simple, even with a strong, but gentle, and hardworking husband holding two jobs to help make ends meet. I can only imagine the bravery it took to carry on after his accident. No one prepares you for the terrible twists of fate that can shake a world when you least expected. What was your day meant to be, I wonder, before you got the news? The car that struck him caused so much damage, so much pain. How did you survive and support your children during those 2 long months of uncertainty while he lay almost lifeless in a coma? How did you handle the heartbreak when he came home with brain damage? How did you manage a household with all of this, in that quaint little cottage I remember from my youth, and your 5 younger children still in school?

You did so much more than simply get through each day. No matter how hard things became, you brought life and treasured memories to all those who knew you. You gave your children a joyous childhood filled with warmth and laughter. You taught them life skills, compassion and encouraged their academic dreams as their names filled the school honour board. Visitors from the country would call into your ‘halfway house’ or so they called it, enjoying a welcome space and delicious meal. You could make a meal out of anything and your baked Christmas dinners and deserts were the envy of all. I wish I’d been there to hunt for the hidden sixpence in your Christmas pudding, digging in to find the surprise, but I’ll never forget the many Christmases we shared, surrounded by the extensive family I was fortunate enough to know.

It takes quite a woman to draw so many lines together at Christmas time, whether in your cosy cottage or the new homes of your children. The family had spread so far and wide but were all connected with a single thread, a thread that led back to you.

Mulberry fights, the visits from Santa, and festive feast that spanned the yard or filled the tiny table inside. I’ll never know how you pulled it off. I remember the sense of awe I felt, walking through the forest of brightly coloured Christmas clothing, staring up at the smiling faces until I reached the cheeriest of them all, chuckling on Santa’s lap. I ran over to you and jumped in for the photo as the other great grandchildren gathered around this tiny little lady with snowy white hair. None of us knew just yet, that you were the strongest of all.

Nanna Dot, you were our heart, our core, comfort. I am so thankful for the time we had, however short. Though the greater part of your journey was all but over while mine was just beginning, so many of my best and most prominent memories of childhood are thanks to you.

Thank you for birthing my line and raising them well. Thank you for bringing so many of us together in celebration of love and family. And thank you for me.