Why The Ongoing Tribute To Doris?

By James Donahue

It should be no surprise that my grief after suddenly losing my wife of 51 wonderful years appears to have no bounds. That I maintain my daily tribute to her on my news page may seem as if I am overdoing the outward display of this personal sadness. Perhaps this is so.

I must explain, however, that Doris always was my daily inspiration for just getting out of bed in the morning and going to work. Without her I probably would not have achieved. Without her I would never have enjoyed the fantastic adventure we shared together.

Doris and I parented four children. We plunged into ventures that included salvaging and repairing dilapidated old houses, pursuing a variety of spiritual pathways, writing a book, exploring flea markets, collecting antiques, and traveling the expanse of North America. We befriended and lived among the Native Americans of the Southwest, were chased and forced to outrun bandits across the desert, and grieved for the loss of many people and animals we loved.

As she lay dying I held her in my arms and tearfully reminded Doris of the great adventure our lives had been. I reminded her of how wonderful our marriage had been and said I would not have changed much . . . except perhaps for the few dark experiences we shared.

She was my life. She was the source of The Abba Father stories. She kept our home constantly lively and bright with her skill at making everything look cheerful just by the way she arranged things she purchased at a local junk store. Her cooking was so good I often remarked that she could make a fortune if we opened a restaurant.

Her heart was so big and loving that she was beloved by all who knew her. Her amazing intellect kept everything in perspective. She could fix just about any broken thing. Her favorite tools were a screw driver, a pair of pliers and a roll of duct tape. She had a great sense of humor. Laughter filled the home when Doris was around.

This is why her image now appears on the top of my Internet news page. All that appears there from this day forward will be done in her memory . . . in her honor.