This is what I said at the funeral, basically:

Most of you know Dorothy as the fantastically unique, wonderful person that she was. But I must confess: for the first twenty years of my life, she was simply my mom. I was aware that she was unique, and wonderful, but she was also the person who told me to do my laundry and to make sure and be home by midnight.

This changed dramatically for me in the spring of 1998, when I saw Chasing Wild Geese. I knew my mom had been laboring painstakingly to produce this dance, but I wasn’t ready for what I saw, in a certain fashion. She had put her choreography on hold shortly before I became self-aware, and so I knew of it only through her stories, and from the many event posters we had in our photo albums.

My mom made her first appearance in Chasing Wild Geese about halfway through the performance. Her dancers were dressed primarily in a “basic” costume: black pants and a colored t-shirt. In one scene, they pranced around one another in an interlocking blend of nursery-rhyme allusions, while reciting mashed-up bits of Mother Goose rhymes. In the middle of this organized frenetecism, my mom erupted through the backstage curtain, dressed like a homeless woman and pushing a shopping cart. She had a perfectly tuned wild-eyed look to her as she mocked the other dancers, aping her own choreography with amazing ironic precision and panache.

It was then that I realized that this wasn’t just my mom. This was an artist of the highest caliber and consummate skill. In this instant, I realized that many, many of the facets of her personality — the things I considered part of fundamental “mom-ness” — were, in fact, powerful expressive forces to be reckoned with. It was an epiphany; like being unblinkered… so many things that I didn’t know were even there were now in sharp focus.

I wanted to share this because I know she has done this for many of you. We can see things much better, because of her. She taught us how to see, in many ways, and that is the most valuable and amazing lesson one can be taught.

Thank you.

Anyway. Hard one to talk about, to the internet at large. But I’ll say that my friends have been absolutely excellent and wonderful during this time. If I haven’t spoken to you personally, I do apologize… everything has been utterly fucking crazy, as you might perhaps think. Will be back later with more design stuff, probably. It’s hard, though, because I really miss my mom. She was the best there is, no hyperbole. Yes.

-fish

Fish, thought, i don’t know you nor your mom. i want to give my condolences. your loving words and admiration to your mom were very touching, to discover in our parents not only’ parenthood qualities but more ‘divine’-‘artistic’ (is there more divine then being a parent? i wonder…a real one, with compassion and patience and love and respect and tenderness) and by the way you describe the choreography she made but mainly by looking at her face, her wise warmth dark eyes, her beautiful smile that enlighten all her face, with an aura like…makes one wish to know her.

Hey Fish,

Remember me?
I’m soooooo sorry to hear about your mom’s passing through your message board here just now. That’s so sad and difficult. :(

Anyway, I remember meeting your mom when I was prospective student at Wellesley and you guys showed me around. I recall her to be a very patient and loving mom toward you and always had much faith in your abilities. I also recall how proud you were of your mom and her amazing professional dancing capabilities. You have made her proud and you have impressed your friends here who are astonished at how far you’ve come since you were a little first year in high school when I met you. Your mom always knew your potential I can tell. Anyway, i’m sorry to see that this has happened but glad to see you are doing so well at RISD and in the creative field!

In any case, I know quite a bit of how you may be feeling I think… i lost my best friend Ben Walter (bright copper hair and went to MIT) last December 2005 who you might remember meeting at my b-day party at wellesley my senior year. It’s very heartbreaking to lose someone who believes in you especially as wonderful a person as your mom was to you. If you ever need to rant to your friends, please let us know how we can help. It can be a really lonely place to be now.

*hugs*
siming *___*