We woke up to sad news on May 13. Doris Day had passed away at 97 years of age. A grand old age! Vale, Doris Day.
We heard tributes and her old songs being played on the airwaves. Like ghosts of our past, Doris Day was a personal fave. Que sera, sera. Pneumonia got her in the end, like many geriatrics. Getting old is not for sissies. Que sera, sera. It is like a memory of our childhood days, listening to Doris Day songs.
Vale, Doris Day. We recall her fresh-faced beauty, and her ability to launch into song, just like that, as she always captured our hearts. We followed her films, her story and the inevitable happy ending. Has she finally returned to the ‘Black Hills of Dakota’? All that beautiful, pristine North American landscape, somewhere via Hollywood. We loved all that schmaltz, very feel-good stuff.
Vale, Doris Day. All her world was a stage, and she read her lines so well. Another song on the airwaves now, another glowing tribute to the celluloid heroine. ‘A sentimental journey’, indeed. I stop what I am engaged in, and ponder, what was Doris Day really like? I wonder if she ever had a ‘Secret Love’ of her own, in spite of, or because of, her successes as a singer and actress.
Did the media and Hollywood ever really care about Doris Day, the woman? Bit late now to pretend. She was immortalised, forever beautiful. Her heart that gave us so much to love is forever young. To us, she never grew old. But her screen presence graces the ghosts of our younger years. I listen to another obituary, another song, another film reference. A lifelong star, a grand old age, a grand old dame. A star was born, now she has joined the stars in the night sky above. The curtain falls, the lights dim, whatever will be, will be. Que sera, sera.
Vale, Doris Day. May you rest in peace in that beautiful Indian country that you loved. Thanks for the memories.
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