If we subscribe to the school of thought that your first year of life is lived in utero, then Doris—our beloved Mom and Granny—passed during her 100th year of life. And what a century it was. She lived, she loved, and she laughed fiercely. Her journey took her from Mississippi life in the late 1920s, through Chicago, St. Louis, and Southern California in the 70s and 80s, with a brief time in Europe, before she finally settled in Central and Northern California in the mid-90s. Doris left her footprints wherever she stepped. 

She was the definition of a matriarch. Being the oldest of 15 children, she stepped into that role after Sadie, becoming a second mother to her brothers and sisters. She carried that same maternal devotion to her own children and grandchildren—even helping Miriam raise her two boys, Shaun and Stephen. Ultimately, Doris was a mother to 5, a grandmother to 8, a great-grandmother to 18, and a great-great-grandmother to 5. Beyond her bloodline, she became a surrogate mom and a prayer partner to so many others. The impact she left on the lives she touched is an indelible mark. I am her legacy. They are her legacy. We are her legacy. 

This woman was strong, inside and out. She was as strong as the steel her brothers and sisters forged at General Motors. Her hands were as strong as the bars on the old PacBell telephone poles, or the cast-iron skillets she would handle fresh off the open fire. 

But no one lives a century without scars. None of us leave this life unscathed by setbacks and disappointments, and Mom had her fair share. What she lacked in formal education, however, was far surpassed by the wisdom given to her through her relationship with her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. She always expressed her gratitude to the Lord for blessing her with what she called "Mother-with" and "common sense." She never let the challenges, failures, or disappointments of this world break her. 

Mom worked for Western Electric for 25 years, 9 months, and 17 days—give or take a few days. I only know that exact number because she loved to tell it to anyone who would listen whenever she didn’t want to do something! It was her brilliant way of staying perfectly still and protecting her peace. After leaving the phone company, she worked as an independent contractor, guiding new mothers and teaching them how to care for twins and triplets. 

But what Doris gave to this world far preceded her work history. The very definition of her life was "acts of service." She loved sacrificially, and she gave. She gave her time, her finances, and when she had nothing left to give, she gave some more. 

She lived life with style, too. She loved driving her Electra 225 in Chicago, and later in California, her Buick Skylark, which she affectionately called "Black Beauty. 

"Through it all, she never hesitated to put her faith in God, even when things weren't working out. She was firm in her beliefs, but she always respected the views of others when they differed. She always took the time to stop, sit, and listen. Doris was a deeply forgiving woman—if she were Catholic, she would have been christened a Saint. 

She was kind, affectionate, and so incredibly funny. Her laugh filled the quiet spaces of rooms and muted louder sounds, until all the focus in the room was entirely on Doris and her beautiful smile. 

She was—and is—truly an amazing woman. She was my example. We are all better for knowing her and for experiencing the light she carried. Doris herself was an experience. 

She will be missed. Although she is gone from our sight, her spirit is always present, forever cherished, and deeply loved.