To Make A Difference
Posted on December 15, 2019by meemselle
Until last week, I never knew anyone who was murdered.
That has changed.
There are no words, and all those that I am using feel like the most banal of clichés. I keep saying, “This is a nightmare.” I keep saying, “I can’t believe it.” I keep saying, “I can’t stop crying.” I keep saying, “We will never know what really happened.” I keep saying, “I miss her so much.”
Last week, my friend, Lindsay DeFeliz, was found in a hastily-dug, shallow trench in a wooded area very close to her home in Cacique/Moncion. The victim of an apparent strangulation, she had been wrapped in a yellow sheet from her house, a couple of dog food bags, and black trash bags. She was reported missing by friends after she failed to return home from working as a translator at the court in Puerto Plata. Lindsay had lived in the Dominican Republic for 18 years and held Dominican citizenship. She was the author of two highly-acclaimed memoirs, “What About Your Saucepans?” and “Life After My Saucepans,” both detailing in alternately hilarious and horrific detail her adventures in her beloved adopted country.
Lindsay was a woman of singular courage and rare honesty. Her unflinching eye did not rest behind rose-colored glasses, and despite her diminutive size, she was fierce and brave, not only intellectually and emotionally, but physically as well. She was a wonderful cook. She was a great raconteur. She was a serious and engaged writer. She was deeply committed to ensuring justice and a fair shot for those less fortunate than herself.
But beyond all of that, she was an expansive and generous friend.
The number of people whose lives she touched is enormous, but not only by sheer numbers is its reach impressive. What is remarkable is the variety. From all walks of life, fellow ex-pats, the community of DR Sisterhood, campo friends, writing colleagues, women, men, and children, Lindsay had the gift of making each one feel like a Best Friend Forever.
Her delight in gifts of hard-to-find-in-the-campo food bordered on the sybaritic. There was little that made her happier than laying in a good stash of Cadbury chocolate, and a few mushrooms tucked into the fridge. Never have I seen a person wax more rhapsodical over brussels sprouts.
At the close of her second book, Lindsay wrote:
When I interviewed students who wanted to do an MBA, when I was a marketing lecturer in my former life, I would ask them what they wanted written on their gravestones. I know what I want. “She made a difference.” Simple as that.
You did it, Linds. You made a difference. More than you will ever know. You did it. May your memory be for a blessing now and forever.
Posted on December 15, 2019by meemselle
Until last week, I never knew anyone who was murdered.
That has changed.
There are no words, and all those that I am using feel like the most banal of clichés. I keep saying, “This is a nightmare.” I keep saying, “I can’t believe it.” I keep saying, “I can’t stop crying.” I keep saying, “We will never know what really happened.” I keep saying, “I miss her so much.”
Last week, my friend, Lindsay DeFeliz, was found in a hastily-dug, shallow trench in a wooded area very close to her home in Cacique/Moncion. The victim of an apparent strangulation, she had been wrapped in a yellow sheet from her house, a couple of dog food bags, and black trash bags. She was reported missing by friends after she failed to return home from working as a translator at the court in Puerto Plata. Lindsay had lived in the Dominican Republic for 18 years and held Dominican citizenship. She was the author of two highly-acclaimed memoirs, “What About Your Saucepans?” and “Life After My Saucepans,” both detailing in alternately hilarious and horrific detail her adventures in her beloved adopted country.
Lindsay was a woman of singular courage and rare honesty. Her unflinching eye did not rest behind rose-colored glasses, and despite her diminutive size, she was fierce and brave, not only intellectually and emotionally, but physically as well. She was a wonderful cook. She was a great raconteur. She was a serious and engaged writer. She was deeply committed to ensuring justice and a fair shot for those less fortunate than herself.
But beyond all of that, she was an expansive and generous friend.
The number of people whose lives she touched is enormous, but not only by sheer numbers is its reach impressive. What is remarkable is the variety. From all walks of life, fellow ex-pats, the community of DR Sisterhood, campo friends, writing colleagues, women, men, and children, Lindsay had the gift of making each one feel like a Best Friend Forever.
Her delight in gifts of hard-to-find-in-the-campo food bordered on the sybaritic. There was little that made her happier than laying in a good stash of Cadbury chocolate, and a few mushrooms tucked into the fridge. Never have I seen a person wax more rhapsodical over brussels sprouts.
At the close of her second book, Lindsay wrote:
When I interviewed students who wanted to do an MBA, when I was a marketing lecturer in my former life, I would ask them what they wanted written on their gravestones. I know what I want. “She made a difference.” Simple as that.
You did it, Linds. You made a difference. More than you will ever know. You did it. May your memory be for a blessing now and forever.
