Dorothy Wilens

February 25, 1930 ~ January 17, 2014
In lieu of flowers the family requests donations be made to the:
"Wilens-Chu Memorial Scholarship Fund"
in honor of Dorothy's grandson Jacob.
checks to be made out to:
"Wilens-Chu CFNV"
and mailed to:
Cindy DeMarco
Community Foundation for Northern Virginia
2940 Hunter Mill Road, Suite 201
Oakton, VA 22124
Dorothy Wilens of Boca Raton, Florida passed away on Friday evening January 17, 2014 after a 2 1/2 year battle with (MDS) Myleodysplasia Syndrome and then finally Leukemia. She is survived by her son David, daughter Jody, daughter-in-law Lih-Maan, granddaughter Rebekah, sister Renee Gelfond, brother-in-law Lee Gelfond, sister-in-law Marsha Wilens Selig, brother-in-law Marty Wilens, partner Bill Grossman and dozens of nieces and nephews and their children as well as many, many loving friends, especially lifelong friend Louise who spoke with her almost every day for 40 years. She was an avid tennis player, lover of theatre, ballet, museums, music, family, friends, travel and she embraced life and love with a passion. She remains an inspiration to everyone who knew her and will be missed forever. She was buried at Chestnut Grove cemetery in Herndon, VA next to her beloved husband Melvin and beloved grandson Jacob.
WE WOULD LIKE TO ADD SOME EULOGIES FOR THE MANY THAT MISSED THE FUNERAL BECAUSE OF ALL THE SNOW.
Here are some eulogies:
My Mom - a Eulogy by daughter, Jody Wilens:
Growing up we didn't have much in the way of material things but we did get a wealth of lessons in life.
Mom taught me about the arts, theatre, ballet, museums and dancing. I starting dancing ballet at a young age of 5 and got my first "on Pointe" ballet slippers when I was around 7 years old.
She also taught me about unconditional love - no matter what choices I made, whether she agreed with them or not, she would always be there to help .and make everything feel OK if things went wrong. When I was little her hugs were like a warm blanket that engulfed me and made me feel safe.
Mom also taught me about the importance of family - she loved spending time with her family. Growing up we spent all the holidays gathering with grandmothers, aunts, uncles and cousins.sitting around, eating, drinking, eating some more, telling jokes, ohhhhand did I mention eating? Our family always got together for the holidays but as people moved farther away Thanksgiving became the annual reunion feast .ending with everyone on the beach the next day.
Mom taught me about being grateful - eat everything on your plate there are children starving in china..but she also showed how grateful she was for every extra day she was able to stay alive after her cancer diagnosis.
She also taught me about fighting.yes sometimes there was arguing but there were also lessons about fighting for what you thought was right, as well as fighting to stay alive. I remember her telling the doctors who said she was too old for a bone marrow transplant"thats age discrimination".
Mom taught me about being tough - although she struggled with 6 days of chemo a month and rashes all over her body, sores in her mouth, weakness and nauseashe never complained. she just always answered the phone or greeted you with a giant "helloooo" and would say "I'm doing fine".
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Mom will be remembered for doing everything in life she wanted. She was never afraid to try new things while urging others to do the same.saying "Go for it".
Mom will certainly be remembered for never missing a happy hour. Granddaughter Rebekah once posted a photo of mom with a bottle of wine, a full glass, cheese, crackers and nuts with the caption: "At exactly 5PM every day at the Wilens house when grandma's in town".
Mom was known for her theatrics and ability to entertain and think of a song at the mention of a word.of course after happy hour she often forgot most of the lyrics.
Mom was always ready to entertain with song and dance which is why most of her nieces and nephews called her "Auntie Mame". We all can remember the endless kick lines with her sisters while singing songs.as they argued over the correct lyrics and what order they went in.
Mom worked out all the time and even brought her weights and yoga mat to the hospital with her. She loved playing bridge as well as tennis..both singles and doubles..and won many tournaments up until last year at age 82 when she started getting weak from chemo.
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Mom's last days were memories of being with all the family and friends she loved and of partying as long as she could. Now instead of us receiving her giant hugs that were like a warm blanket making you feel safewe were covering HER with hugs and giant blankets of love.
On Friday night January 17th at 7:30 PM my sweet, beautiful, loving mother passed away after her bravely fought battle and 2 1/2 year struggle with MDS & Leukemia . She was surrounded by loving family with her music playing and left us after living life to the fullest with lots of spunk and a positive attitude.
Mom
the stage may be empty now after you've taken your final bow..and the lights may have gone dark..but your star quality still shines forever everywhere.especially in our hearts.
I miss you and love you mom from the bottom of my heart.
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Eulogy by Lih-Maan Wilens (daughter-in-law):
My Mom, My Friend
About 30 years ago, David wanted to marry me. He asked his father to write a letter to my father in Taiwan. My father-in-law, Mel, wrote a very nice letter saying along the lines of: Lih-Maan is a very nice girl. We will welcome her to our family. We will take care of her and treat her like our daughter..The letter was translated by David's friend into Chinese.
Indeed in these 30 years, my parents-in-law were so good to me. Like our children, we called them Yeh-Yeh and Ni-Ni for grandpa and grandma. They came to visit us very often. When my kids were young, David and I were able to take vacations and left the kids with the Yeh-Yeh and Ni-Ni. Many of my friends were quite jealous. Ni-Ni and Yeh Yeh-Yeh loved them, always read to them and had long conversations with them on the phone.
When I was newly married, I was very shy to speak in English. Mom always made me comfortable among family gatherings.
Mom loved art. She loved to watch Dancing with the Stars, So you think you can dance, The Oscars and the Golden Globes. Last month, we went to The Frick Collection in New York City to see Vermeer's "Girl with a Pearl Earring." This was her last museum trip.
She loved to watch tennis tournaments and ice skating on TV. She played tennis until her eighties. She played bridge with friends and she was very good at cross word puzzles.
There were 2 movies I love: Tess of the d'Urbervilles, written by Thomas Hardy and Sunflower, an Italian movie with Sophia Loren, that I came to know by watching with her. She knew I liked Jane Austen's stories in PBS' Masterpiece Theater. She would call me and remind me it would be on TV that night or other programs she knew I was interested in. Her artistic talents were also shown in her house displays. She keeps her house so clean, so neat and so organized. Everything is beautifully displayed, which I can never keep up with and I wonder why her son did not inherit this talent.
Mom would not be shy about her opinions. When we watched the Evening Nightly News, she and David would start to loudly express their own opinions of whatever events. I would say: "I can't hear what's going on."
In 2008, while Rebekah was studying abroad in Shanghai, we joined a tour to Beijing, Xi'an, and Shanghai. In Xi'An, mom was completely overwhelmed by the 2 thousand year old Terracotta Army recently unearthed. In Shanghai, we visited a Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum, where it told us stories of 25, 000 Jews escaped World War II and settled their lives in Shanghai. She looked and looked until she could not hold her emotions any more. She sat there; she cried and cried. We ended up staying there much longer than we originally planned.
Mom always wanted to try new things. She used email, facebook, paid her bill on line, although she called David many times why it didn't work. Her mind never stopped learning. Her heart only pumped youthful beats. If I asked her the meaning of a word, she would explain to me. If she was not satisfied, she would go to the bookshelf, picked up the dictionary, found the word and explained to me further.
Many years ago, while we were still living in Maryland, I was driving home one night with her. It was very foggy. I said: Mom, I can hardly see. She said: Don't worry. Just drive slowly. With her sitting next to me, I felt calm and wasn't afraid. Two or three years ago, she and I went to Union Station in Washington D.C. at night to pick up Rebekah. After picking her up, I made wrong turns and got so lost in South East Washington D.C. I was so upset at myself and kept apologizing to her. She said: DON'T WORRY. DON'T WORRY. IT IS OK. IT IS OK.
A couple of months ago, I had an episode at work. I was hyperventilating and was sent to an emergency room in Fair Oaks Hospital. Later, she heard about it, she was very concerned and woke up at night worrying about me.
Recently my Mazda Millennium had leaking problems for some time. She kept saying Lih-Maan, you need a new car. Two weeks ago, mom was transferred to our house to stay. When the medical vehicle arrived, mom was carried by a stretcher to enter our front door. I purposely left my garage door open. I said: Mom, look at my new car. Though weak, she said: you should have it 3 years ago!
Now, I've reached the middle age of my life. I am considering what to do next. Shall I quit my job and do something else? But what shall I do then? I am very puzzled. Mom left us last Friday. She is not with us now. I know she would say to me: Lih-Maan. Don't be afraid to try new things. If you fail, you have tried and I am very proud of you.
I love you mom. I will miss you. May God bless your soul.
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Eulogy by Bill Grossman (friend and partner):
Hi,
For those of you that don't know me I have been Dorothy's friend for over 60 years and for the last 3 years I have been her soul mate, roommate and best friend. Regretably my role for the last two and a half years has been that of caregiver, a role I tried to fill with love and compassion.
Dorothy was an amazing woman who faced her illness with bravery. She never complained, she never cried and she never said "why me". She should be an example for all of us.
She is now in a better place, may she rest in peace.
Thank you
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Eulogy by Marsha Wilens Selig (sister-in-law)
MY DEAREST DOROTHY,
TO SOME YOU WERE MOM, AND NI-NI TO OTHERS
THE DRAMATIC "AUNTIE MAME TO MANY, BUT IF I HAVE MY "DRUTHERS"
I'LL ADDRESS YOU TODAY AS MEL DID THROUGH THE YEARS
AND SIMPLY SAY DOROTHY, "GOOD BYE MY "DREAR"
YOU CAME INTO OUR LIVES WHEN I WAS AGE 5 OR AGE 4
WHEN WE LIVED IN FRANCIS COURT IN 2 BUNGALOWS BY THE SHORE
OUR MOMS PLAYED MAH JONGG EVERY AFTERNOON AND EVERY NIGHT
YOU DATED MEL AND EVERYTHING SEEMED ALL RIGHT
AS THE YEARS WENT BY YOU GAVE BIRTH TO A WONDERFUL GIRL AND BOY:
JODY AND DAVID, EVERYONE'S PRIDE AND JOY
AND YOU, DEAR DOROTHY WOULD BABYSIT FOR ME WHENEVER MOM WENT TO A GAME
YOU EVEN WANTED ME TO LIVE WITH YOU
HOW SELFLESS..."AUNTIE MAME"
AND AS WE GOT OLDER OUR LIVES GREW APART
BUT, WITH IT ALL, YOU WERE ALWAYS IN MY HEART
WE'VE HAD OUR TRIALS AND OUR TRIBULATIONS TOO
LIFE HASN'T ALWAYS BEEN EASY, BUT WITH YOUR LOVE AND ADVICE
I'VE ALWAYS MADE IT THROUGH
SO NOW I SAY ADIEU. YOU'LL BE IN MY HEART, SO CLOSE AND SO NEAR
REST IN PEACE DEAR DOROTHY, OR SHOULD I SAY "DREAR"
I LOVE YOU
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Eulogy by Lauren Gelfond (niece):
> When Auntie Mame Died, Aviv, my youngest son, asked: "well, maybe she will come back to life, right?"
>
> When I asked him what he meant, he explained that if she is in The Garden of Eden now, then maybe she would eat fruit from The Tree of Life and then come back to life, or be reborn.
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> I smiled, imagining a painting of Auntie Mame in a tropical garden wearing a loin cloth, pulling an apple off a tree.
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> I don't believe in a mythical garden or magical tree, but the image was perfect.
>
> My Aunt Dorothy has been eating from the tree of life all her life.
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> Wherever she was, song, dance, and laughter were never far behind.
>
> When I was child, she visited us often; sometimes she would even stay to babysit me for the whole weekend with me, when my parents were away. We would watch old movies together, sitting together on the blue shag rug in our family room, eating hors d'ouevres in front of the TV. She would brush my hair. She would paint my face. And inevitably, we would sing songs from our favorite Broadway shows. There would also probably be a little dance.
>
>
> She would also ask me questions about my life, about my friends, about school, and if I told her that anyone had dared to be unkind, she would always have some words of wisdom, like "ah, fuck them" or "screw them, they're beneath you, let's dance."
>
> Auntie Mame filled my childhood with song, dance, stories, movies, Shirley Temple non-alcoholic cocktails, forbidden foods, and her contagious love of life. And you all know the story of how she ate my moms chocolate mousse right off the floor.
>
> When I got older and moved away to university and asked her what I should wear to the biggest party of the year, THe Beaux Arts Ball, a package showed up in the mail of Auntie Mame's period costumes, including the 1920s rocking flapper dress and cap that I ended up wearing. When I told her how I loved thrift shopping for 1940s dresses, she fished her old cocktail dresses out of storage and gave them all to me. We shared a taste for the eccentric, so she was always giving me little pieces of clothing or jewelry that Jody wouldn't be caught dead in. And when I moved to New York City after graduation, she came to visit me with a big silver flower cocktail ring that she made in a jewelry making class.
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> The ring has long since been lost, I'm afraid, but today, I wear this giant flower as an ode to my tante, because I know that it would make her smile.
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> As I grew into adulthood and talked to Auntie Mame about the crazy things I wanted to do with my life, she was always right there behind me, egging me on, saying, "sure you can, why not?"
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> And if I gave her the lists of reasons everyone else was giving me for how I was being impractical, you know now what she said, right? "Screw them; you can do anything you set your mind to." She always told me to follow my dreams. Be a good person. Enjoy life. I checked the emails she sent me and in one she also wrote : "make sure you stop and smell the roses." Of course sometimes she said, follow your dreams, but maybe you and Rebekkah could find dreams in the US, closer to the family; we would love that :--)
>
> She adored staying in touch with family and over the years, we even became pen pals. I love to write letters and she loved to tell me about the friends she was seeing, her tennis, theater, ballet, music, museum trips, and what her children and grandchildren were doing. She would always also want to know about my apartment, my husband, my kids, my social life, my job, and where could she read my articles. As a fierce defender of civil rights, human rights, and pluralism, She also liked to talk about politics sometimes. She always stood up against racism, sexism, homophobia and any anti-ism.
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> When she was diagnosed with cancer, it shocked our entire family. Everyone knows that happy people have better immune systems; how could SHE of all people be so sick? There was something mythic and eternal about Aunt Dorothy, so it was hard to comprehend that she would ever have been the next one to go. My parents assumed she would long outlive everyone from their generation.
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> But she was sick unlike anyone before has ever been sick. When I'd ask her about the chemo, she always said, "it was fine!" I rested and then, there was always a then..."Then I went to play play tennis." Or "Then I went to the theater". Or "then I went to the the ballet." Until a couple of months ago, two and a half years into her chemo, she also continued to do calisthenics every morning."
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> One day when I was visiting Florida, she came straight from chemo and said to my dad, "Darling, pour me a martini." She requested we put on the music to the Swan Lake ballet and she and my mom raised their arms into the air and danced with their upper bodies, laughing. I remember that day, because as they were semi-dancing and telling stories, they realized it was the yahrzeit of their father, Julius, the grandfather that we cousins have never met. So what did we do to honor him? We ordered Chinese food, of course.
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> During that trip, and lots and lots of chemo, she asked me one day, in a voice like one that can only have been learned from Bubbie, "why the hell are you wearing those same baggy shorts every day?" And then she said, "you know what: Your mom is so old and never takes you out anymore. Honey, I'm taking you shopping."
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> And the next morning, at age 81 or 82, with cancer and chemo raging through her blood, she drove me to the mall and bought me short, tight cut-off shorts and skinny Levis jeans. We had the most wonderful day, having girl talk, lunch, and shopping, and then, because jeans were so much cheaper in the US than in Jerusalem, I decided to treat myself to a pair of leopard print jeans and when I asked her how they looked she said, "Your bum looks marvelous darling; I wish I could also wear those." But of course Auntie Mame, in her eighth decade, could have pulled them off, maybe even better than I
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> The next and last time I saw her in August, several emails later, we were passing through New Jersey and met at Bill's. She was once again after chemo, but she laughed all day, and when Aviv wanted to play cards, she just popped down on the floor with him and gave him and the game all her attention, making him very happy. She always talked to my kids the way she had talked to me when I was a kid, asking them questions, not only about their lives, but about their feelings and opinions, and of course, making them laugh.
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> When we got the news that Auntie Mame was going to hospice, I started calling her several times a week. On the last days of her life she was more tired than unusual, but she remained upbeat, asking about me and the kids, and telling me about the small things she found to enjoy each day, like the view from her window, her visitors, what calls she had had, or maybe what she had seen on television. If I, here and there, accidentally let slip the question, "how do you feel," she always said, "fine" or maybe, "yeah, pretty good."
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> One day she told me that my brother's family and my parents were coming to visit and that she was excited that they were bringing her some vodka and special brownies. What is a special brownie, I asked, "the name of a brand of deserts in New York?" "No!" she laughed, "special, as in funny-hahaha." The next day Bob sent me a photo he titled, "mom and Aunt Dorothy getting high." I had such a good laugh, alone at my computer.
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> When Auntie Mame went home to David and Lih-Maan's house, she told me every day that she felt good and and loved being home with Lih-maan, David and Jody and being in Rebekka's room with a window.
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> Her children surrounded her with so much love and so many blessings in the last days and hours of her life.
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> About three days before she died, I called her suddenly, because I had to ask her: what is the secret to your always being so happy?
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> It turns out that a few months earlier she had also wanted to pass on her special philosophy to Rebekkah, telling her, "don't forget that if something doesn't work out that it doesn't mean you have failed, it just means that it wasn't right for you."
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> When I asked her, she said something like, "Oh sure, well, you get up in the morning, you smile, if you have to have a little chemo, you ignore it. You get a little rash, you say, okay, it'll go away, and it goes away, you keep smiling. You find something beautiful in every day. You keep smiling. You keep looking for the good." I replied, "So you just decide to be happy?" "Yes," she said. "You just make a decision to be happy and smile every day."
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> When I called one day and Jody and David told me that it might be her last few hours, I asked David to give her a kiss on her forehead from me. He said, no, you go ahead and talk to her, I'll put the phone next to her ear. I got to tell her, "Aunt Dorothy, You filled my life with so much joy and music and dance and laughter and love and I am so grateful and I have loved and will always love you with all my heart."
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> When I woke up last Saturday and had an email from my brother that aunt Dorothy had died, I had to tell my children about death for the first time. They had so many questions about what happens to the body and where is Aunt Dorothy now? I told them that we don't really know what happens after death, that some people believe that nothing happens, some people believe in Heaven, and that we believe that even though the body stops working, that the atoms that make up a person survive in the world, and that we didn't think she would come back to life, but that we were sure that aunt Dorothy's positive energy went back into the world.
>
> Out there, amongst the flowers and trees, the spirit of auntie Mame, aunt Barbara, Jacob, bubbie, and all our beloved and beautiful ancestors are surely singin a song and doing the kick line.
Funeral Home:
Money & King Funeral Home
171 W. Maple Ave.
Vienna, VA
US 22180
"Wilens-Chu Memorial Scholarship Fund"
in honor of Dorothy's grandson Jacob.
checks to be made out to:
"Wilens-Chu CFNV"
and mailed to:
Cindy DeMarco
Community Foundation for Northern Virginia
2940 Hunter Mill Road, Suite 201
Oakton, VA 22124
Dorothy Wilens of Boca Raton, Florida passed away on Friday evening January 17, 2014 after a 2 1/2 year battle with (MDS) Myleodysplasia Syndrome and then finally Leukemia. She is survived by her son David, daughter Jody, daughter-in-law Lih-Maan, granddaughter Rebekah, sister Renee Gelfond, brother-in-law Lee Gelfond, sister-in-law Marsha Wilens Selig, brother-in-law Marty Wilens, partner Bill Grossman and dozens of nieces and nephews and their children as well as many, many loving friends, especially lifelong friend Louise who spoke with her almost every day for 40 years. She was an avid tennis player, lover of theatre, ballet, museums, music, family, friends, travel and she embraced life and love with a passion. She remains an inspiration to everyone who knew her and will be missed forever. She was buried at Chestnut Grove cemetery in Herndon, VA next to her beloved husband Melvin and beloved grandson Jacob.
WE WOULD LIKE TO ADD SOME EULOGIES FOR THE MANY THAT MISSED THE FUNERAL BECAUSE OF ALL THE SNOW.
Here are some eulogies:
My Mom - a Eulogy by daughter, Jody Wilens:
Growing up we didn't have much in the way of material things but we did get a wealth of lessons in life.
Mom taught me about the arts, theatre, ballet, museums and dancing. I starting dancing ballet at a young age of 5 and got my first "on Pointe" ballet slippers when I was around 7 years old.
She also taught me about unconditional love - no matter what choices I made, whether she agreed with them or not, she would always be there to help .and make everything feel OK if things went wrong. When I was little her hugs were like a warm blanket that engulfed me and made me feel safe.
Mom also taught me about the importance of family - she loved spending time with her family. Growing up we spent all the holidays gathering with grandmothers, aunts, uncles and cousins.sitting around, eating, drinking, eating some more, telling jokes, ohhhhand did I mention eating? Our family always got together for the holidays but as people moved farther away Thanksgiving became the annual reunion feast .ending with everyone on the beach the next day.
Mom taught me about being grateful - eat everything on your plate there are children starving in china..but she also showed how grateful she was for every extra day she was able to stay alive after her cancer diagnosis.
She also taught me about fighting.yes sometimes there was arguing but there were also lessons about fighting for what you thought was right, as well as fighting to stay alive. I remember her telling the doctors who said she was too old for a bone marrow transplant"thats age discrimination".
Mom taught me about being tough - although she struggled with 6 days of chemo a month and rashes all over her body, sores in her mouth, weakness and nauseashe never complained. she just always answered the phone or greeted you with a giant "helloooo" and would say "I'm doing fine".
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Mom will be remembered for doing everything in life she wanted. She was never afraid to try new things while urging others to do the same.saying "Go for it".
Mom will certainly be remembered for never missing a happy hour. Granddaughter Rebekah once posted a photo of mom with a bottle of wine, a full glass, cheese, crackers and nuts with the caption: "At exactly 5PM every day at the Wilens house when grandma's in town".
Mom was known for her theatrics and ability to entertain and think of a song at the mention of a word.of course after happy hour she often forgot most of the lyrics.
Mom was always ready to entertain with song and dance which is why most of her nieces and nephews called her "Auntie Mame". We all can remember the endless kick lines with her sisters while singing songs.as they argued over the correct lyrics and what order they went in.
Mom worked out all the time and even brought her weights and yoga mat to the hospital with her. She loved playing bridge as well as tennis..both singles and doubles..and won many tournaments up until last year at age 82 when she started getting weak from chemo.
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Mom's last days were memories of being with all the family and friends she loved and of partying as long as she could. Now instead of us receiving her giant hugs that were like a warm blanket making you feel safewe were covering HER with hugs and giant blankets of love.
On Friday night January 17th at 7:30 PM my sweet, beautiful, loving mother passed away after her bravely fought battle and 2 1/2 year struggle with MDS & Leukemia . She was surrounded by loving family with her music playing and left us after living life to the fullest with lots of spunk and a positive attitude.
Mom
the stage may be empty now after you've taken your final bow..and the lights may have gone dark..but your star quality still shines forever everywhere.especially in our hearts.
I miss you and love you mom from the bottom of my heart.
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Eulogy by Lih-Maan Wilens (daughter-in-law):
My Mom, My Friend
About 30 years ago, David wanted to marry me. He asked his father to write a letter to my father in Taiwan. My father-in-law, Mel, wrote a very nice letter saying along the lines of: Lih-Maan is a very nice girl. We will welcome her to our family. We will take care of her and treat her like our daughter..The letter was translated by David's friend into Chinese.
Indeed in these 30 years, my parents-in-law were so good to me. Like our children, we called them Yeh-Yeh and Ni-Ni for grandpa and grandma. They came to visit us very often. When my kids were young, David and I were able to take vacations and left the kids with the Yeh-Yeh and Ni-Ni. Many of my friends were quite jealous. Ni-Ni and Yeh Yeh-Yeh loved them, always read to them and had long conversations with them on the phone.
When I was newly married, I was very shy to speak in English. Mom always made me comfortable among family gatherings.
Mom loved art. She loved to watch Dancing with the Stars, So you think you can dance, The Oscars and the Golden Globes. Last month, we went to The Frick Collection in New York City to see Vermeer's "Girl with a Pearl Earring." This was her last museum trip.
She loved to watch tennis tournaments and ice skating on TV. She played tennis until her eighties. She played bridge with friends and she was very good at cross word puzzles.
There were 2 movies I love: Tess of the d'Urbervilles, written by Thomas Hardy and Sunflower, an Italian movie with Sophia Loren, that I came to know by watching with her. She knew I liked Jane Austen's stories in PBS' Masterpiece Theater. She would call me and remind me it would be on TV that night or other programs she knew I was interested in. Her artistic talents were also shown in her house displays. She keeps her house so clean, so neat and so organized. Everything is beautifully displayed, which I can never keep up with and I wonder why her son did not inherit this talent.
Mom would not be shy about her opinions. When we watched the Evening Nightly News, she and David would start to loudly express their own opinions of whatever events. I would say: "I can't hear what's going on."
In 2008, while Rebekah was studying abroad in Shanghai, we joined a tour to Beijing, Xi'an, and Shanghai. In Xi'An, mom was completely overwhelmed by the 2 thousand year old Terracotta Army recently unearthed. In Shanghai, we visited a Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum, where it told us stories of 25, 000 Jews escaped World War II and settled their lives in Shanghai. She looked and looked until she could not hold her emotions any more. She sat there; she cried and cried. We ended up staying there much longer than we originally planned.
Mom always wanted to try new things. She used email, facebook, paid her bill on line, although she called David many times why it didn't work. Her mind never stopped learning. Her heart only pumped youthful beats. If I asked her the meaning of a word, she would explain to me. If she was not satisfied, she would go to the bookshelf, picked up the dictionary, found the word and explained to me further.
Many years ago, while we were still living in Maryland, I was driving home one night with her. It was very foggy. I said: Mom, I can hardly see. She said: Don't worry. Just drive slowly. With her sitting next to me, I felt calm and wasn't afraid. Two or three years ago, she and I went to Union Station in Washington D.C. at night to pick up Rebekah. After picking her up, I made wrong turns and got so lost in South East Washington D.C. I was so upset at myself and kept apologizing to her. She said: DON'T WORRY. DON'T WORRY. IT IS OK. IT IS OK.
A couple of months ago, I had an episode at work. I was hyperventilating and was sent to an emergency room in Fair Oaks Hospital. Later, she heard about it, she was very concerned and woke up at night worrying about me.
Recently my Mazda Millennium had leaking problems for some time. She kept saying Lih-Maan, you need a new car. Two weeks ago, mom was transferred to our house to stay. When the medical vehicle arrived, mom was carried by a stretcher to enter our front door. I purposely left my garage door open. I said: Mom, look at my new car. Though weak, she said: you should have it 3 years ago!
Now, I've reached the middle age of my life. I am considering what to do next. Shall I quit my job and do something else? But what shall I do then? I am very puzzled. Mom left us last Friday. She is not with us now. I know she would say to me: Lih-Maan. Don't be afraid to try new things. If you fail, you have tried and I am very proud of you.
I love you mom. I will miss you. May God bless your soul.
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Eulogy by Bill Grossman (friend and partner):
Hi,
For those of you that don't know me I have been Dorothy's friend for over 60 years and for the last 3 years I have been her soul mate, roommate and best friend. Regretably my role for the last two and a half years has been that of caregiver, a role I tried to fill with love and compassion.
Dorothy was an amazing woman who faced her illness with bravery. She never complained, she never cried and she never said "why me". She should be an example for all of us.
She is now in a better place, may she rest in peace.
Thank you
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Eulogy by Marsha Wilens Selig (sister-in-law)
MY DEAREST DOROTHY,
TO SOME YOU WERE MOM, AND NI-NI TO OTHERS
THE DRAMATIC "AUNTIE MAME TO MANY, BUT IF I HAVE MY "DRUTHERS"
I'LL ADDRESS YOU TODAY AS MEL DID THROUGH THE YEARS
AND SIMPLY SAY DOROTHY, "GOOD BYE MY "DREAR"
YOU CAME INTO OUR LIVES WHEN I WAS AGE 5 OR AGE 4
WHEN WE LIVED IN FRANCIS COURT IN 2 BUNGALOWS BY THE SHORE
OUR MOMS PLAYED MAH JONGG EVERY AFTERNOON AND EVERY NIGHT
YOU DATED MEL AND EVERYTHING SEEMED ALL RIGHT
AS THE YEARS WENT BY YOU GAVE BIRTH TO A WONDERFUL GIRL AND BOY:
JODY AND DAVID, EVERYONE'S PRIDE AND JOY
AND YOU, DEAR DOROTHY WOULD BABYSIT FOR ME WHENEVER MOM WENT TO A GAME
YOU EVEN WANTED ME TO LIVE WITH YOU
HOW SELFLESS..."AUNTIE MAME"
AND AS WE GOT OLDER OUR LIVES GREW APART
BUT, WITH IT ALL, YOU WERE ALWAYS IN MY HEART
WE'VE HAD OUR TRIALS AND OUR TRIBULATIONS TOO
LIFE HASN'T ALWAYS BEEN EASY, BUT WITH YOUR LOVE AND ADVICE
I'VE ALWAYS MADE IT THROUGH
SO NOW I SAY ADIEU. YOU'LL BE IN MY HEART, SO CLOSE AND SO NEAR
REST IN PEACE DEAR DOROTHY, OR SHOULD I SAY "DREAR"
I LOVE YOU
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Eulogy by Lauren Gelfond (niece):
> When Auntie Mame Died, Aviv, my youngest son, asked: "well, maybe she will come back to life, right?"
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> When I asked him what he meant, he explained that if she is in The Garden of Eden now, then maybe she would eat fruit from The Tree of Life and then come back to life, or be reborn.
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> I smiled, imagining a painting of Auntie Mame in a tropical garden wearing a loin cloth, pulling an apple off a tree.
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> I don't believe in a mythical garden or magical tree, but the image was perfect.
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> My Aunt Dorothy has been eating from the tree of life all her life.
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> Wherever she was, song, dance, and laughter were never far behind.
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> When I was child, she visited us often; sometimes she would even stay to babysit me for the whole weekend with me, when my parents were away. We would watch old movies together, sitting together on the blue shag rug in our family room, eating hors d'ouevres in front of the TV. She would brush my hair. She would paint my face. And inevitably, we would sing songs from our favorite Broadway shows. There would also probably be a little dance.
>
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> She would also ask me questions about my life, about my friends, about school, and if I told her that anyone had dared to be unkind, she would always have some words of wisdom, like "ah, fuck them" or "screw them, they're beneath you, let's dance."
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> Auntie Mame filled my childhood with song, dance, stories, movies, Shirley Temple non-alcoholic cocktails, forbidden foods, and her contagious love of life. And you all know the story of how she ate my moms chocolate mousse right off the floor.
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> When I got older and moved away to university and asked her what I should wear to the biggest party of the year, THe Beaux Arts Ball, a package showed up in the mail of Auntie Mame's period costumes, including the 1920s rocking flapper dress and cap that I ended up wearing. When I told her how I loved thrift shopping for 1940s dresses, she fished her old cocktail dresses out of storage and gave them all to me. We shared a taste for the eccentric, so she was always giving me little pieces of clothing or jewelry that Jody wouldn't be caught dead in. And when I moved to New York City after graduation, she came to visit me with a big silver flower cocktail ring that she made in a jewelry making class.
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> The ring has long since been lost, I'm afraid, but today, I wear this giant flower as an ode to my tante, because I know that it would make her smile.
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> As I grew into adulthood and talked to Auntie Mame about the crazy things I wanted to do with my life, she was always right there behind me, egging me on, saying, "sure you can, why not?"
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> And if I gave her the lists of reasons everyone else was giving me for how I was being impractical, you know now what she said, right? "Screw them; you can do anything you set your mind to." She always told me to follow my dreams. Be a good person. Enjoy life. I checked the emails she sent me and in one she also wrote : "make sure you stop and smell the roses." Of course sometimes she said, follow your dreams, but maybe you and Rebekkah could find dreams in the US, closer to the family; we would love that :--)
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> She adored staying in touch with family and over the years, we even became pen pals. I love to write letters and she loved to tell me about the friends she was seeing, her tennis, theater, ballet, music, museum trips, and what her children and grandchildren were doing. She would always also want to know about my apartment, my husband, my kids, my social life, my job, and where could she read my articles. As a fierce defender of civil rights, human rights, and pluralism, She also liked to talk about politics sometimes. She always stood up against racism, sexism, homophobia and any anti-ism.
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> When she was diagnosed with cancer, it shocked our entire family. Everyone knows that happy people have better immune systems; how could SHE of all people be so sick? There was something mythic and eternal about Aunt Dorothy, so it was hard to comprehend that she would ever have been the next one to go. My parents assumed she would long outlive everyone from their generation.
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> But she was sick unlike anyone before has ever been sick. When I'd ask her about the chemo, she always said, "it was fine!" I rested and then, there was always a then..."Then I went to play play tennis." Or "Then I went to the theater". Or "then I went to the the ballet." Until a couple of months ago, two and a half years into her chemo, she also continued to do calisthenics every morning."
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> One day when I was visiting Florida, she came straight from chemo and said to my dad, "Darling, pour me a martini." She requested we put on the music to the Swan Lake ballet and she and my mom raised their arms into the air and danced with their upper bodies, laughing. I remember that day, because as they were semi-dancing and telling stories, they realized it was the yahrzeit of their father, Julius, the grandfather that we cousins have never met. So what did we do to honor him? We ordered Chinese food, of course.
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> During that trip, and lots and lots of chemo, she asked me one day, in a voice like one that can only have been learned from Bubbie, "why the hell are you wearing those same baggy shorts every day?" And then she said, "you know what: Your mom is so old and never takes you out anymore. Honey, I'm taking you shopping."
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> And the next morning, at age 81 or 82, with cancer and chemo raging through her blood, she drove me to the mall and bought me short, tight cut-off shorts and skinny Levis jeans. We had the most wonderful day, having girl talk, lunch, and shopping, and then, because jeans were so much cheaper in the US than in Jerusalem, I decided to treat myself to a pair of leopard print jeans and when I asked her how they looked she said, "Your bum looks marvelous darling; I wish I could also wear those." But of course Auntie Mame, in her eighth decade, could have pulled them off, maybe even better than I
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> The next and last time I saw her in August, several emails later, we were passing through New Jersey and met at Bill's. She was once again after chemo, but she laughed all day, and when Aviv wanted to play cards, she just popped down on the floor with him and gave him and the game all her attention, making him very happy. She always talked to my kids the way she had talked to me when I was a kid, asking them questions, not only about their lives, but about their feelings and opinions, and of course, making them laugh.
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> When we got the news that Auntie Mame was going to hospice, I started calling her several times a week. On the last days of her life she was more tired than unusual, but she remained upbeat, asking about me and the kids, and telling me about the small things she found to enjoy each day, like the view from her window, her visitors, what calls she had had, or maybe what she had seen on television. If I, here and there, accidentally let slip the question, "how do you feel," she always said, "fine" or maybe, "yeah, pretty good."
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> One day she told me that my brother's family and my parents were coming to visit and that she was excited that they were bringing her some vodka and special brownies. What is a special brownie, I asked, "the name of a brand of deserts in New York?" "No!" she laughed, "special, as in funny-hahaha." The next day Bob sent me a photo he titled, "mom and Aunt Dorothy getting high." I had such a good laugh, alone at my computer.
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> When Auntie Mame went home to David and Lih-Maan's house, she told me every day that she felt good and and loved being home with Lih-maan, David and Jody and being in Rebekka's room with a window.
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> Her children surrounded her with so much love and so many blessings in the last days and hours of her life.
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> About three days before she died, I called her suddenly, because I had to ask her: what is the secret to your always being so happy?
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> It turns out that a few months earlier she had also wanted to pass on her special philosophy to Rebekkah, telling her, "don't forget that if something doesn't work out that it doesn't mean you have failed, it just means that it wasn't right for you."
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> When I asked her, she said something like, "Oh sure, well, you get up in the morning, you smile, if you have to have a little chemo, you ignore it. You get a little rash, you say, okay, it'll go away, and it goes away, you keep smiling. You find something beautiful in every day. You keep smiling. You keep looking for the good." I replied, "So you just decide to be happy?" "Yes," she said. "You just make a decision to be happy and smile every day."
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> When I called one day and Jody and David told me that it might be her last few hours, I asked David to give her a kiss on her forehead from me. He said, no, you go ahead and talk to her, I'll put the phone next to her ear. I got to tell her, "Aunt Dorothy, You filled my life with so much joy and music and dance and laughter and love and I am so grateful and I have loved and will always love you with all my heart."
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> When I woke up last Saturday and had an email from my brother that aunt Dorothy had died, I had to tell my children about death for the first time. They had so many questions about what happens to the body and where is Aunt Dorothy now? I told them that we don't really know what happens after death, that some people believe that nothing happens, some people believe in Heaven, and that we believe that even though the body stops working, that the atoms that make up a person survive in the world, and that we didn't think she would come back to life, but that we were sure that aunt Dorothy's positive energy went back into the world.
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> Out there, amongst the flowers and trees, the spirit of auntie Mame, aunt Barbara, Jacob, bubbie, and all our beloved and beautiful ancestors are surely singin a song and doing the kick line.
Funeral Home:
Money & King Funeral Home
171 W. Maple Ave.
Vienna, VA
US 22180
My condolences on your loss.
Your Mom and you shared a special bond which you now can always treasure in your heart.
My thoughts and prayers are with all of the Wilens Family during this time of loss. Sincerely, Dave
“Great it is to believe the dream when we stand in youth by the stary stream; but a greater thing is to fight life through and say at the end, the dream was true.”
An amazing person I had the privalege to know. Energy that was contagious, spreading love, joy and laughter wherever she went. Thank you for making the world a better place!
Dearest Jody and Wilens family, Although I only met Dorothy a few times, she was always welcoming to me and sweet and funny. I mostly remember her when I went to Jacobs first memorial swim meet and I got to know her a little better. Jody has been one of my best friends for the last 20 years, and I can see where she got her good looks and “never give up” attitude. In Dorothy’s final years, I was just so amazed by her “chutzpah” and determination to beat her illness. She seemed to live life to the fullest, right up to the end. I’m sure she will be greatly missed. Prayers, love to all of you . Sincerely,Judi Lebeaux Aleksa
Dorothy Wilens was a very special lady to me. When I first met her, she welcomed me with love and open arms. I was often included in family affairs and vacations. I called her my adopted mom. It was a wonderful experience spending time with her. With her theatrical background she always made everything seem so much more alive. I loved her dearly and will truly miss her. Love Cheryl & Jim