A Tribute to a Joyful Spirit

I walked into Chelsea Market eight years ago on a clear spring afternoon. As I walked through the flower shop and eyed the birds of paradise I noticed a human bird of paradise. There amongst the foliage was an elegantly dressed elderly woman with a bright red hat, a sharp eye for flowers, and a crisp tongue.

I immediately went to the Manager whom I knew and said, “Who is that vivacious lady? I would like to meet her.” My friend said to me , “Oh, her name is the Queen of the Hudson.” I was stumped and said, “The Queen of the whom?” “Yes, her name is the Queen of Hudson,” he said. I feverishly went over and introduced myself and, she, of course, introduced herself as The Queen of the Hudson. I replied, “I am delighted to meet you.” I gave her my business card and after a long and cheerful conversation about our passion for beauty and flowers, we agreed that we would meet for lunch. The first of many.

The Queen of the Hudson’s given name is Dorismarie Welcher, and for the last eight years we have had breakfast at least four times a month. Dorismarie became my adopted Grandmother in New York City. She was married to a legendary Jazz Musician. She decided to name herself the Queen of the Hudson because her view of her home overlooks the Hudson River in Chelsea, and it was years ago when she arrived in New York City she saw this cruise ship the QE she said I am inspired so why not call me the Queen of the Hudson. We shared an amazing friendship of the young and the old and a zest for life. She loved Serena and Venus and every US Open she would be at Arthur Ashe stadium cheering them on.

She was a school teacher and had a passion for words; she marched in the civil rights movement and went to School with Coretta Scott King. She referred to me as her Hunk of a Protoplasm “The living part of a cell”. I never asked her why that was my nickname. My mailbox was filled with constant clipping of articles she felt I needed to read and should read. Every holiday, every birthday, every occasion; there would be a card and every birthday there would be a gift.

The last time I saw her we had breakfast at Pastis and she scolded me for walking too fast. I asked if she was okay. She replied in her steely way that she had just learned from her doctor that she had some water on her lungs and that she would be fine. I was concerned, but she was never the type for a pity party. She said to me you just keep doing that yoga because you are sure looking brighter and brighter. After my return from India I tried to call her as my dearest friend Nadine had gone to see her while I was away and said please call her, sooner rather than later. At this point I still did not inquire why the “sooner”, as in my world Dorismarie was invincible, she was an active New Yorker and her age never hindered her from taking a cruise, as this spring she took a cruise to Alaska, or getting on a plane to her destination. She would meet me at Bathazaar or Les Halles, or, her least favorite place, Country. She would take the bus or walk several city blocks to enjoy our breakfasts together. I laughed at her always complaining that Country never had an egg holder for the soft boiled eggs and their low seats at Country, and tried to assuage her with the great fruit salad.

I kept calling throughout the whole week I returned from India. My thought was that perhaps she was off to Colorado because she liked the mountains and spent extended periods in Aspen and knew I was away and failed to inform me she too would be away. My nightmare occurred fifteen minutes after her death when her caretaker called me to advise she was in the hospital, had passed and I was on the top of the list to be called. She was Eighty Seven years old when she passed away on Friday November 28^th, 2008. She never revealed to me she had lung cancer and deteriorated rapidly over a three week period of time while I was away. I was shattered.

As I grapple with this loss, each moment I fall into "wow" I never got to say goodbye. And my sense of loss becomes overwhelming. But each day I find ways to honor her. She was a big bright spirit and the moment I saw her all my troubles would disappear with her laughter, joy, and the most rewarding intellectual conversations. She had no time for small chatter and a big heart and a massive love for life. She has shared with me so many lessons that I use each day.

Many of you knew my sacred friendship with the Queen and have inquired about her wishes. She requested to be cremated and part of her ashes be sprinkled in the Hudson River and in the mountains of Aspen, Colorado.

My friend and my Kindred Grandmother your spirit is still here with all those lives you touched. I love you and honor you.

Namaste

MechelThompson