Doris Lindsey was one of the first people I met when I joined the choir at St. Lawrence. That was nearly 10 years ago. I like to believe she appreciated my twisted sense of humor. That said, I think she really had my number. But it didn’t matter; she liked me in spite of myself.
Doris was the mother of my friend Linda, who is the director of music at St. Lawrence. Probably one of the kindest human beings I have ever encountered, she was well-loved by her family: her 4 daughters, her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren.
I’m told that she stumbled on the Internet not all that long ago. Once she figured out what it could do, she used it to great advantage to communicate with her family and her friends.
One of the last times I saw her was at the Cashin Senior Center on Manchester’s West Side. I was there on a detail for a fair of some sort that was being put on, and while I was standing there minding my own business, I heard a woman’s voice call me by name. When I looked to see who it was, I saw that it was Doris, and I was pleasantly surprised. It was good to see her and to chat with her, and one of the things I distinctly remember her saying to me was that she was glad for “people like us who were there to look out for people like her.” As far as I was concerned, it didn’t matter because we always took care of “people like her” (meaning Seniors, of course). But she was one of that that was special, at least to me.
I found out earlier this week that she passed away suddenly on Monday at the age of 83. It saddened me, but I thought about it and realized that although she isn’t here anymore, her memory will still be with those of us who knew her and regarded her as a friend.
Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord
And may Perpetual Light shine upon her.
May she rest in peace.