Alethea Lee Doyle

From the moment you were born, my whole life changed. For years, it was me and you against the world. I used to call you my little girlfriend, and you brought more joy to my life than I ever thought possible. A tiny little person with such a big personality. You always insisted on your own style. Dressing like boy George or Madonna for school pictures and later dressing your little brother like Sinéad O’Connor. You were so creative, so much fun, and never afraid to be yourself. For dances and proms, you always chose something unique. I remember when you were in middle school you once asked me, “Do you think this is too much?” and I told you, don’t ever let anyone dim your light. The only thing that matters is how you feel. Do you feel beautiful and confident? Then that’s your answer. You amazed me with everything you set your mind to. You took your S.A.T's in Italian just because you could. You were class president, a freshman on varsity, you graduated college with a double degree! In the middle of battling breast cancer you still worked tirelessly to secure a promotion. Amazing! You are simply amazing! Theater was your passion, as a young girl you attended theater camp. You were always the lead, in my eyes anyway. Bigger than life even then! The most dramatic, The brightest star on stage. You followed your passion, and you went after it with your whole heart—taking trains to New York every week for acting classes, directing Oliver Twist at the local theater, and pouring yourself into every role. You worked on a cruise ship, traveling through Belize, Guatemala, and the Panama Canal. You told me how much you loved interacting with the local children in Belize, and how their smiles lit you up. When you asked me if you should take that job, I told you, “Yes—go see the world. Experience everything I didn’t.” And yet, if I could go back, I would tell you to stay home with me forever. But as your mom, I wanted you to live fully, even if it meant letting you go! In my grief now, I ask myself so many questions: Did I listen enough? Did I cherish you enough? Did I tell you how amazing you were enough? Should I have given less advice and just been more of a friend? You were the kindest soul I’ve ever known. You never spoke badly of anyone. You believed people should be free to be themselves—a quality I wish I had more of. Everyone who met you loved you. People smile at the mention of your name whether they knew you 30 years ago or just met you. You had such a gift for making people laugh. The way you’d tell a story could leave me laughing until my cheeks and stomach hurt. And your imitations—of the Boston and Rhode Island accents, always with that mobster flair, had the whole room in stitches. You could transform into a character in an instant and it was always spot on! We'd talk for hours on the phone. We'd start off by saying " I have work tomorrow we'll make this quick" to ending the call an hour or more later with our usual " I love you so much, Goodnight" I miss those calls so much. I miss you! You gave me so many precious memories. Our mother daughter adventures and get aways. We spent weekends in New York going to Broadway shows, concerts, dancing with the stars, Spa dates, paint-and-wine nights, ceramic and pottery classes you made my heart and life full always! The holidays... I can't picture Christmas without you! Holidays were always extra special with you—the love and thought you put into each gift was unbelievable. And you never failed to surprise your brother with a gag gift that had the whole family roaring with laughter. The silly family games we played will never be the same. No matter how old you and Bobby got, you both loved a little friendly competition. Running through the house looking for the next clue. You filled my life with so much love and laughter and I will treasure every single one of those memories. You had such grace in the way you handled life’s challenges. From the outside, it always looked easy, but I know it wasn’t. You just made it look that way. You gave everyone else grace so easily, while being so hard on yourself. Since losing you, I struggle just to get out of bed. I think of the times I pushed you to get moving. You never asked for sympathy, never acted like a victim. All you wanted was to go at your own pace. I thought I could fix everything, but now I understand what you meant. And I’m so sorry. You always said I was strong, but the truth is—you were the strong one! Even during your illness, you laughed, you radiated positivity, you found joy. I’ll never forget when you rang the bell after treatment. We celebrated, believing that chapter was behind us. How could we have known, how could we have ever imagined? Life is so cruel! When I was young, I once wrote a poem about reincarnation,wanting to come back as “Tomorrow,” because as long as there was a tomorrow, there was hope. But now, without you, tomorrow feels empty and hopeless. A mother’s love for her child is the deepest love I can imagine. Losing you is the deepest pain I can imagine. You will forever be my best girlfriend! The brightest star! One of my greatest joys and blessings, and that will never change. I love you so much. Alethea! Good night.