Linda Lee Dolhay

Linda Lee Dolhay died on November 4, 2025 at 3:15 a.m. More on that later. Linda was an amazing person as a daughter, sister, friend, and a forty-three-year nurse. One needs only to have met her to understand that. She was born in Kalamazoo, Michigan on October 9, 1952, doing things differently right from the start as she was a preemie back when a lot of premature babies didn’t make it. Linda not only made it, she flourished, displaying her kind heart and generous soul right from the start. Linda was also spirited, preferring to talk in class instead of listen to the teacher, and in elementary school she was sent to the principal’s office on a regular basis. Not exactly a punishment as the ladies in the office adored her, usually giving her a bottle of pop and a job helping them finish their filing or sometimes letting her answer the telephone. Their explanation for this lax discipline? “But Linda is just so cute and sweet, we can’t be mad at her.” She stayed that same way her entire life, but Linda was also an eyeroller, an eyebrow lifter, a backtalker, an under the breather, and it was infuriating, yet such a part of her that if you loved her, it made you laugh even as you wanted to smack her one. Our father got nothing but a kick out of her sassing him, starting back when Linda was just four years old and confidently bossing him around as he tried to paint the house. They kept that relationship forever, Dad smiling as he let her get away with murder: “That’s just Linny.” And it was. Linda was also adventurous, always willing to try something new and drag her two stick in the mud sisters on some of the best times of their lives. Nothing too wild, you have to understand your audience, but I can personally tell you that our four-day, three-night trip to the Cayman Islands with just eighteen dollars between us, not only somehow worked out just fine, it was one of our best vacations ever. Linda’s big heart was always open and she was always willing to take a chance on someone who needed help. She would do whatever she could to lend a hand, heck, Linda would somehow figure out how to do even more than that, and there is a long line of people who owe her from the little to the big, and those are just the ones I know about. She was a poor student who didn’t like school and just wasn’t interested, doing the bare minimum to get by with our parents yelling at her, grounding her, bribing her, whatever they could think of to turn her around. Nothing worked, and then Mom finally figured it out – it was simply a leap of faith. I overheard a private conversation one evening between our parents (the best kind) and Mom said to Dad: “Bob, I think we just have to be patient and trust that when Linda finds what she wants to do, she’s going to be incredible.” A few years later here came nursing school, and Linda never looked back. She went after it a hundred percent, earning straight As and becoming a spectacular nurse. Right out of the gate she was special, going at her job with more compassion than most, her heart painfully wide open to her patients and their families because that’s what she believed it took to do the job right. She ended her career with that same belief, never regretting that early decision and never straying from it. When I was in high school, a friend had leukemia and was telling me all about this nurse he and his family loved. She did all kinds of above and beyond things for him, like coming in on her off days to be with him when he had to have painful treatments, bringing him silly things to make him laugh, favorite foods to encourage him to eat, and a bunch of other caring things to help him get through the worst time of his life. He said to me: “I know you’re proud of your sister, but no way could anyone be better than this nurse.” I asked her name and he said: “Linda. Her last name’s weird; you won’t know her.” “It’s Dolhay. That’s my sister.” Yes it was, and she was still with him and his family when he finally left this world. In her personal life she was always there when you needed her to be, no judgment or criticism, just understanding and support, and if you were loved by her, well, the word “special” doesn’t begin to cover it. There was nothing Linda wouldn’t do for her family, a happily independent woman who sacrificed her autonomy without hesitation for her two sisters when we needed her, moving in with us and making it the best time of all of our lives. Linda wasn’t a saint, but she sure was an exemplary human being. She was funny as hell too and she loved to laugh, which brings us back to the time of her death. It was just the two of us left and like with a lot of people, a lifetime of love and happiness had come down to such a sorrowful moment. Linda and I had so many running jokes between us over the years that were like shorthand to make a bad situation a little better, even for just a second, but of course, I wasn’t thinking of any of those things as I sat at her deathbed holding her hand. I was remembering our lives together, thanking her for being so wonderful to me, telling her she had nothing left to do, and I was dreading when she was going to start gasping for breath. It was something all of my other loved ones had done at their passing, and something Linda knew had upset me tremendously every time. They say it doesn’t hurt, that the person dying isn’t aware of what’s happening, but it sure doesn’t sound like that to me and I didn’t know how I was going to face it again, this time all alone. But Linda’s breathing never did that. It was quiet the entire time, and it sounded so close to normal that it made me think that maybe it wasn’t really her time yet. I kissed her and told her not to hang for me, and then just like that she exhaled and was gone. I looked at the clock and I laughed because I knew Linda had just shared a final joke with me. 3:15, a quote from The Amityville Horror movie, a dark joke we had shared many times over the years whenever things were so horrible and we desperately needed a laugh. And boy, if there was ever a moment we needed to laugh, right? I don’t feel like I really did Linda justice here. I’m too heartbroken, my thoughts of her are too scattered, the enormity of her passing is too great. When our sister Julie died nearly six years ago, I think I did a better tribute, in part because I had Linda with me to steady me, and now it's just me all alone. But I know what I want to make crystal clear to anyone reading this, and that is Linda was an amazing person. She was kind, smart, funny, artistic, sweet, interesting, generous, feisty, unafraid, and so magnificently loving. She was the best hugger ever made and she left this world with very little, if anything, to apologize for. Our whole family loved her dearly and was proud of her, and I would stand in awe if I didn’t know her so well. Instead, I stand in honor: of what she accomplished, the way she treated people, the way she did her job, the way she moved through this world for seventy-three years, but most of all I stand in honor that she was my sister. Linda Lee Dolhay was absolutely incredible, just like Mom said she was going to be. Fun, fun, fun, fun, Lin. Always.

Linda Lee Dolhay

October 9, 1952 - November 4, 2025