When my dad was fourteen, she and Grandpa Kurt took him in as one of their own and raised him into the man he is today. Even my mom reveres her as her own mother. So it was only natural that, despite technically being my aunt, Grandma Dorothy is and has always been my grandmother. And even though we are an adopted family, I never felt for one moment that we weren’t meant to be this way, this close, and this loved by her. We have been blessed.

I have a variety of memories from Grandma Dorothy. She was very much a people person, and always on the go, active in church and many organizations. Yet she always had time for family and friends. Every Friday, she would come over for Bingo Fridays. We would play for hours and talk about the little things.

Her house was always filled with crafts. Grandma dorothy loved the arts, and I admired what she did so much so that I chose the arts as my own career. One of the items I remember the most were her crying dolls. These pouty little stuffed dolls would constantly be mistaken for real children playing hide-and-go-seek. What I didn’t know when I first saw her pouting dolls was just how important they were.

When I was fifteen, I had just started dating a boy in my chemistry class. His mother invited me over for dinner and, there in their living room, was a pouting doll. I knew it had to be Grandma Dorothy’s, and so I inquired about it. Come to find out that my boyfriend’s parents lived just down the road from “Dotty,” and had rescued her two Shih Tzus once when they had somehow gotten out, one of which would be my dog’s mother. As a thank you, Grandma Dorothy gave them one of these pouting dolls. I took this as a symbol.

That boyfriend is now my husband. I think she knew.

She was always the first one to tell a joke and she always wanted to smile. I remember, despite her tribulations with cancer, rounding the corner into the kitchen and Grandma Dorothy lifting off her wig. It scared me to pieces! But it made her laugh. And to me, laughing through an illness like that is what pulled her through. It made her stronger, and it made us stronger. She laughed until the very end.

For me, though she may not physically be here anymore, Grandma Dorothy is always with me, showing me the right path as she did in life. She’s in my artwork and my marriage. I see her in my family and how we love one another. I admire her strength and sense of humor, and I aspire to, one day, have these same qualities.