Dorothy Hein

This week, April 8th, was the birthday of my mother-in-law, Dorothy Hein. She was born in 1910 and died in 2008. Through determination and sheer grit, she lived 98 years. She wanted to live longer. She wanted to outlive her classmate and dear friend, Marian Kelly. That would have made Dorothy the oldest living member of her eighth grade class. Alas, Marian lived to be 103. Dorothy is still not pleased.

Dorothy was hard-working, steady, kind, brave, joyful and, above all, funny. She was proud of being 100% Irish. Dorothy and her sister, Margaret, had a booth at Duffy’s Shamrock Tavern reserved just for them every St. Patrick’s Day. They got there early in the morning and stayed all day, wearing green from head to toe.

Dorothy and Margaret, the Gorman sisters, were a twosome. They loved to tell stories and laugh, to put on parties for every possible occasion. Dorothy’s happy place was her home ~ filled with the people she loved.  

Thanksgiving was Dorothy’s favorite holiday. Her table, set with her best china and wine glasses, stretched across two rooms. It included her family of six children, Margaret’s family of three more, their spouses and children, and often one or two drop-ins from the neighborhood. 

Dorothy’s next favorite holiday was her birthday. It was spring. The flowers in her beautiful backyard garden were blooming again. It was close to Easter. She made it through another year. There were lots of things to celebrate. Mostly, we came to celebrate her.

During this pandemic, I think of Dorothy. Tough times only made her stronger. Her father died in the influenza epidemic of 1918. Overnight her mother became a widow with two small girls to raise and no income. Dorothy, herself, was quarantined in Denver General Hospital with diphtheria when she was ten years old.  The terror of not being able to swallow and having to stay alone in the hospital for weeks never left her. And yet, somehow, she coped and she survived.

When she died, Dorothy had already lost her husband and dance partner, Bill, her sister and best friend, Margaret, and two sons, Mike and Tom. And yet, again she survived. She coped by remembering them with an empty seat at the Thanksgiving table, set with her best china and a glass of wine.

By the time she was in her late-nineties, most of her friends had already died. But Dorothy was determined to stay in her own home and live out her life on her own terms. She filled her house with imaginary friends ~ a tiny sheik who sat on top of her counter and talked to her and a houseful of children who ran up and down the stairs, making a lot of noise. Now her happy place was filled with memories of the people she loved. I am very grateful to have been a part of that.

This poem by Kathleen O’Mara, is making its way around the internet.  It reminds me of the life of sweet Dorothy Gorman Hein, who lived through many, very difficult times and always emerged stronger, more determined, and with her sense of humor still intact. May we all follow her example.

And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.

And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.

And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed.

~ Kathleen O’Mara