…was a very special person in my life. She was a mentor, an idol, and someone I wanted to be like when I “grew old”.. I got to know her when she was in her 90’s. Her daughter was a good friend of mine and for quite a few years she had been trying to get her mother to leave New Jersey and come live with her here in Florida. Daisy would visit from time to time, but always wanted to get back to her home. She had been widowed for many years, as was also her best friend. They lived in a two family house in Prospect Park New Jersey. Daisy lived in the first floor apt. and her friend in the 2nd flr. apt. Daisy still drove, however her friend did not. They took care of, and looked after each other, and she was not about to give that up. They ended each day when her friend would come down at 10 pm to watch the 10 o’clock news, and enjoy a drink together, a Manhattan. She was in her 90’s when she finally agreed to live with her daughter. I was probably in my 70’s when I learned she would be joining our Thursday night dinner group. We were five couples who had gotten together every Thursday for dinner for years. I figured because of Daisy’s age they didn’t want to leave her alone so they would have to bring her. I wondered would they have to leave early to get her home to bed. I should have known with a name like Daisy that she has to be special, and special she was. In her mid 90’s she stood 5’8″, sprier than many in their 70’s and just the epitome of a Grande Dame. I happened to be seated next to her and we bonded immediately when she ordered a Manhattan, (with instructions of how dry she wanted it), and I a vodka tonic. Very few of the woman drank and now I had a 95-year-old drinking partner. She read the New York Times every day, from front to back. She could talk about anything, she was so so interesting. We discovered early on that our birthdays were in April, two days apart, so for several years we always went to lunch at special restaurants, mostly in Mt. Dora. Daisy grew up and lived her whole life in Prospect Park which was a very religious town, I believe Dutch Reform. All the cars had to be off the streets on Sunday, even had to be taken to nearby towns if they had no driveway space. Also, you could not hang clothes out to dry on Sunday and many more restrictions. I know Daisy went to church down here, but we never discussed religion. However, I do know that she liked to play poker on Sunday afternoons, and just in case any of her Prospect Park friends called as she was leaving for poker, she would always say “if anyone calls tell them I’m at Church”. I had never known someone in their 90’s so smart, such a zest for life, so many friends, and who drank and played poker. Several years after coming to the Villages and joining our group, we were together on a Thursday night when she fell ill and was hospitalized. The doctors wanted to take tests to see what was going on and she refused. In fact, her daughter wanted me to talk some sense into her, which I tried but realized very quickly her mind was made up, so I stopped trying. She spent a week in the hospital and was then moved to Hospice with the thought she would get stronger and go home. That Thursday night Sean and I visited her before going to dinner. She was cheerful, her old self, and as I left, I said I’ll be back soon. I remembered how happy she was when she said, ” Well I’ll be going home soon.” We had dinner and as we left Sean and I decided to stop back to see her, as it was her first night there and we could entertain her with the goings on at the dinner group. As we approached her room there was a sign, Do Not Enter, see the front desk. Daisy had really gone home. She was a breath of fresh air; she was remarkable, and I can only hope to be as vivacious as Daisy in my late 90’s . I think of her often, especially as my birthday approaches. I shared with my friend Daisy’s last words to me that she was going home, and the look on her face was so happy and peaceful. My friend said her mother’s last words to her were “don’t forget to get a birthday card for Charlotte’. She was my mentor; my idol and I hope to do her proud.