26. THE MAGIC OF DEE PALMER

She was delight personified. The picture perfect hippie-era California girl: long blonde hair, golden tan, with a smile so bright it would make the sun blush. I imagine she left many a young man swooning in her wake as she walked along the Southern CA beach. But an old friend laughed when she commented that Dee walked right past them and planted herself on a blanket, placing an opened book in her lap. The book, her friend said, was the dictionary. Dee wanted to learn new words. That thirst for inner beauty was one of her trademarks.

When Dee was very young her mother tragically lost her life in auto-train accident. The sorrow of that profound loss was a central thread in her life. Joy swirled around that thin thread, and a stranger would not know about it. But those of us who knew her understood the yearning she felt to know the mother she loved from the start.

Dee's mom.

Dee came into my life a dozen years ago when she and Brad moved into our neighborhood. Because they were so loved in their previous church ward, I imagine it was a hard transition. I was Young Women’s President at the time and felt a strong impression to ask for Dee to serve with us as an advisor. She accepted that calling, and that’s where my life pivoted. When certain people enter our worlds, we tend to shift our course slightly, because the hand-in-hand walking opens new pathways in our journeys. Dee brought to me an increased appreciation for preserving precious moments, especially with our families. She knew I loved seeing what she was up to, so regularly she would bring a sample of the latest project she was focused on. There was always something fabulous in her sites. Her camera was always warm. Her words insightfully chosen. The photos and words documented the lives of her many loved ones in a spectacular manner, so that now anyone who wanted to know exactly what her life looked like would have it at their fingertips. 

And that life? It had a very broad sweep. We all knew she loved us. She had a way of always letting us know that. In her younger years she called the crowds to their feet as a cheerleader. She never stopped being a cheerleader. Seriously, she became the head cheerleader for all of us, making us feel good about the good we do. Lifting our spirits constantly. 

I keep texts on my phone, because I like to reminisce. I’ve spent the last hour reading through old texts between us. It has me weeping.

Tomorrow morning we who love her will encircle her, ring upon ring of people whose lives she touched, radiating farther than a pandemic will allow to assemble. We will symbolically embrace Brad and their treasures as they lower her flesh into the rich brown earth of Farmington Cemetery.

A short time ago, after Dee received her Covid vaccine, there were a few complications that made her uncomfortable, and were frankly worrisome. She thought it might be from the vaccine. But it wasn't. Eventually, in her annual visit to her doctor, they discovered blood clots and sent her for a scan. The scans revealed more than clots, and that is where the heartache pierced the hearts of all who love her.

Because of Covid, Dee's family
could not visit her inside the hospital

Just days ago, less than one month after the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, with her beloved husband and children gathered around her, Dee took flight. I imagine the hand of her young mother reaching down, just as it had when Dee was three years old. I imagine that vaguely familiar hand taking hers and saying, “Let’s go now Dear, we have lots to talk about.” 

The medicine of laughter. Up to the very end.
Love is all the feels.

I’ve been pondering the fragility of life lately. How could such a vibrant, brilliant light be gone so quickly? And yet, for Dee as a child, her mother’s death was much more sudden. And she was small, and unaware, and likely confused. It strikes me as beautiful that the tragedy of her mother’s death would turn to an equal measure of joy, knowing how much Dee had yearned for her mother. How beautiful that reunion must be. Our greatest sorrows eventually swing, like the pendulum on my grandfather clock, in balanced proportion… over into joy.

Years ago, when Dee and I were serving together, she showed me a wonderful thick binder of scrapbook pages. In it were evidence of service her children and grandchildren had given each year. “We told our kids that all we wanted from them for Christmas was to do service as families. Each year they tell us what they did and I put it in this book." It was so thick she had to start a new one. That very Christmas Dave and I followed Dee and Brad’s awesome lead and told our own grown children that we no longer wanted any “thing” for Christmas. “Instead, we want you to give purposeful service. Record it, and share it with us.” Every year, at our Family Nativity gathering, each of our children and their respective clusters share the gift of service they have offered. It is always beautiful, and touching, and counterbalances the chaotic joy of our grandkids dress-up Nativity. Now we have a lovely thick book of our own, with photos and stories of our children and their children helping other earth travelers along their way. It is such a joy to me, and every time I see that book I think of Dee, and I offer a little prayer of thanks for her inspired idea.

The cover of our family Service Book.
The Giving Hands sketch is by our daughter Sarah.

The book is filled with treasured memories.

Dee was the ultimate party girl! Everything she did was over-the-top fabulous, down to the very finest detail. The aesthetics were palpable…sparkle and shine and flavors divine! 

Dee's Daughter-In-Love, ShawnaLyn taught
some of us how to make one of Dee's famous
desserts so we can serve it at the funeral luncheon.

She has a whole massive collection of treasures from a lifetime of hosting. It all represents who she was. And who she was, was a brilliant collection of who she loved. 

Dee Ann's new love...

... became her true love...

... and this is what came of it.

If Dee Palmer knew you, she loved you.

That’s how she was.

And not doubt whatsoever, that’s how she remains.

Until we meet again.

In an attempt to channel Dee, our Relief Society Presidency 
filled the lovely pathways in the Palmer's yard with luminaria tonight.