Doreen

21 February 2018

I lost a friend today.  Not lost as in we had a big fight and now we will never speak again.  Lost as in cancer took her away.

Funny thing...I had never shared a coffee with her, never visited her house, never given her a hug or a kiss on the cheek, never even heard her voice or seen her face except in photos.  We were online friends. Facebook friends. Genie friends. I loved her.

We both loved the colour blue and chickens; not chickens that wander around and peck at your feet, but chickens as ornaments, pictures and calendars.  We swapped pictures of our various chickens and were delighted to find that we had some that matched.  We both had blue kitchens and swapped pictures of those too.

Mostly though, we were both crazy family historians hunting down ancestors who refused to reveal themselves and chortling with glee and doing the genie dance when we found them.

I first met her back at the beginning of 2016 on some genealogy site somewhere.  We began chatting away, then became friends on Facebook (as you do) and continued chatting.  Soon we had made a Messenger group - Nancy, Linda, Doreen and me.  For a long while it was just an unnamed group until one day I renamed it "Genie Girls" and then it really took off.  We discussed our genealogy problems and how to solve them and pretty soon we were just doing life together.

Genie Girls was roaring away, but in the background we were all becoming friends with each other and messaging individuals back and forth.  I see from my message log that Doreen and I began messaging each other in June 2016. There are a lot of messages. Mostly about genealogy but lots of other stuff too.  Oh my she was so funny; I sometimes laughed until tears ran down my cheeks.

Then suddenly it wasn't funny. In the middle of last year she suddenly broke away from Facebook groups that we had been part of and she told the Genie Girls that she had health problems. Chemotherapy was looming and then a mastectomy once the chemo had knocked the lump for six!  She told me she would lose her hair so we started talking hats and sending each other more and more ludicrous ones.  I began praying, storming the heavens by day and by night, pleading for healing for my friend.  I began knitting a stylish little number and made plans to begin "knitted knockers" a lovely soft alternative to usual breast prosthetics which she said she would like.  On 8 May last year I sent her a message "My very best wishes for tomorrow my friend. I posted you a soft little hat this morning. John says I look sexy in it, so it has his approval".  She replied "What a good lady! Thank you so much.  I am fearful, but I have no choice." I told her I was praying for her and she replied "I need a miracle".

The little hat (she called it her "wee hattie") brought unexpected people to her side. A friend saw her in the hospital and rushed up to say "nice hat" and then saw who it was.  They had a lovely chat as they were undergoing the same sort of treatment. Then another day "been to the doctors and my wee hattie got the wowee from the ladies at reception".  I knitted another and got a message "wee pinkie arrived today, put her on and instantly I'm a flapper."

The lump began to shrink and she told me not to stop praying.  Then it was time for the operation and she was quiet for a long time.

We were all grateful when Doreen began posting on Facebook again, helping people with their research and gently, behind the scenes, telling me "tut tut" when I became impatient with inexperienced researchers.  Her son Kevin went to live with her and care for her and sometimes he would message us telling us how Doreen was doing.  And then, out of the blue it seemed to me, we had a message from Kevin saying that Doreen had about 10 days to live.  As I read it I burst out crying.  In the end she didn't have those 10 days and she passed peacefully without pain.

Easter time came and Kevin sent me a message saying that he had something for me.  It was Doreen's lovely blue chicken - even in the midst of death she had been thinking of others, even thinking of me - a person she had never met.

So goodbye dear friend.  You were an amazing researcher and writer, generous with your time and your knowledge and so many have benefited from your kindness.  Thank you for my lovely chicken.  I have named her "Wee Hattie".

Doreen Joan Pennell (nee Plunkett)  21 January 1941 - 21 February 2018