Dorothy Nielsen

Our Moma D was a sparkling mix of homespun sophistication. Social distancing was an impossibly foreign and frosty concept to her. She was admitted to hospice on Friday, the 13th as her adult children, 19 grandchildren and 41 great grandchildren were simultaneously notified. She simply couldn’t die without connecting with us all, rubbing her hands together, raising her arms high and smiling like we had just made her day. We forged her final weekend with personal visits and cyber love messages, pressing our mouths close to her ears or our device microphones. When asked who she had heard from, she said, “Oh I can’t even remember all the people. It was the best day of my life.” After her marriage to Eugene K. England, she spent nine years being loved by his family and treated like the Queen of England herself. Our Moma D fused relationships with people on a substantive level rapidly, keeping her friendships vital over years and across continents. She had a book club, an “Astute Group,” an opera guild, and a study and symphony board group. She had friends from Boston to Hawaii, and from Europe to South America, relating to each one. Serving with her husband, Talmage W. Nielsen, she became the first nurse specialist for the LDS church in the South America North Area and in the Europe East Area. She was assistant director of Church Hosting and Director of the Hawaiian Visitor’s Center and served on the Young Women’s General Board under Spencer W. Kimball. Our Moma D loved invitations, events, hostessing, table settings with china and silver service, seasonal cloth napkins and savory recipes. Homemade slush, fizzy drinks and rolls with crabapple jelly were favorites, in addition to gooseberry, raspberry, and strawberry pies, made from Papa’s garden berries, and served with whipped cream or homemade ice cream. No visit was complete without a prize to take home. We may not need or want whatever Moma D offered, but she WANTED us to have something to remember our time with her, so usually we took the gift and were sure we had made her day. Our Moma D loved chocolate almost as much as relationships, serving a piece on a dessert plate to celebrate whatever we shared with her. Recently, a stash of assorted chocolates was discovered in a box with a note in her handwriting. It read, “Please do not remove.” Our Moma D loved clothes, especially furs, leather shoes and boots, silk scarves, belts, and purses. She took care to coordinate her outfits with appropriate jewelry stored in zip lock bags, because she wanted to be dressed, makeup applied, hair coiffed, ready to go to a musical, operetta, ballet, museum, concert or movie, or anyplace she might be invited. After an activity, she never tired of going for a chat with a hot fudge sundae on the side. When she finally had a date with any of us, she did a happy dance, snapping her fingers and stepping from one foot to another to mark her joy. Glancing in a mirror recently, she asked, “What day is it?” Then quipped, “It must be Halloween.” She didn’t have her makeup applied and therefore she couldn’t possibly greet her family and friends. Our Moma D told us stories about being a Sevier, Utah farm girl, working to pull up potatoes for 5 cents a row during the depression and sewing her own clothes, affirming that she did NOT fear work. Aside from her employment at the Museum of Art in Boston while a student, she worked in her home fostering music in her children, feathering her nest with lots of pink, nurturing house plants, framing and arranging pictures of her grandchildren, baking and bagging food to stock her freezer, event planning for gatherings, with calendars and colored labels for it all. She authored two books, “My Child My Friend” and “How to Look Like a Million without Spending a Mint.” During her final weekend, covid virus restrictions stopped her from going to the dining room for meals, but it was explained to her that anything she wanted could be brought to her room. She could eat ice cream all day long if she desired. “Oh good,” she delightedly responded. Our Moma D crafted and eagerly dispensed reassuring mini devotionals for life’s challenges. On her last day she was asked how she was feeling. She said, “I am ready to “transfer” as Papa called it. Maybe it will be tonight. If not, I am willing to go a little longer.” In truth, our Moma D’s mother, grandmother and great grandmother all chose and realized their death dates. Moma D accomplished her transfer within eight hours, perhaps to coordinate a 5.7 magnitude earthquake, with angel Moroni’s trumpet call, toppling the eight foot horn from the highest Salt Lake Temple spire. The events seemed to reflect her assertion, “I’ve had a really fun life and the next one is going to be fun too.”
We regret that covid 19 virus guidelines prevent viewing and funeral services. Condolence messages are gratefully received.