Published July 3, 2018

We said goodbye to Mom a dozen years ago today in a hospital room in Houston.

She was the subject of one of my first posts on this site, and of the only obituary I’ve ever written, aided by my sisters. An edited version follows below. At the time, it was much longer than any of the others in my hometown paper. Twelve years later, it still doesn’t do justice to the story of an incredible woman’s life. But it’s a start, and it ends with the best quote I ever used in print.

♦

The family of Helen Marie Dubois, 75, invites friends and neighbors to a celebration of her life at 11 a.m. Saturday at St. Margaret Catholic Church in Lake Charles.

She carried each of her four children in her arms for their first Mass at their hometown church, and together they will gather there to offer her to God, and as a testament to the beauty of a life of selfless giving and unblinking courage in the face of death.

Helen’s last breath, Monday in a Houston hospital, marked the final beat of a heart both tender and tough, strengthened by faith and a lifetime of loving, sharing and caring. From her birth May 18, 1931, in Erath, she inspired many with a quiet devotion to those she held dear. They will tell their stories of Helen and hope to hear others during remembrances at week’s end and beyond.

Visitation is from 1-10 p.m. Friday at Johnson Funeral Home in Lake Charles, including a rosary at 7 p.m. Further visitation is from 9-10 a.m. Saturday, followed by a funeral procession to St. Margaret for Helen’s special Mass at 11 a.m.

She will be laid to rest in Consolata Cemetery in Lake Charles next to her husband, Whitney, who died Nov. 1, 1980.

They are survived by four children, who spent her last months, weeks, days and hours witnessing her brave struggle with illness, a fight devoid of complaint and colored by her usual quiet dignity. She loved and nurtured nine grandchildren. She is also survived by a younger brother, Roland. Another brother, Eugene, preceded her in death, as did her parents.

Helen grew up in humble circumstances in Erath, Louisiana, living without most modern conveniences for the first years of her life. She spoke only Cajun French until the first grade.

She learned English in the classroom, helped teach it to her family and became valedictorian of her graduating class at Erath High School, which she represented at Pelican State. She spent summer vacations picking cotton in the humid heat of south Louisiana.

To better herself and her family, she moved after high school to New Orleans for her first full-time job. She married and moved to Lake Charles in 1950. As an adult she owned three homes, the last purchased proudly on her own and built by the sweat and love of a son-in-law and daughter.

Once widowed, she worked at the Calcasieu Parish School Board Accounts Payable Department and increased her nest egg through careful planning and her trademark thrift. She spoke with conviction about elected leaders borrowing from the future instead of having to balance a budget like she did, and she insisted she could have taught them a few things about economical spending.

A lifetime of coupon clipping, sale seeking and self-sacrifice — so her family could have better opportunities than she had — shaped her self-sufficiency and enabled her to live comfortably without asking for help. She did so quietly, not wanting to burden her children, for whom she was always quick to offer help despite her limited resources, even to the end.

They have lost a good listener, a loyal friend, a devoted seamstress and the personification of the book “The Giving Tree.” The community has lost a tireless and savvy volunteer.

An inveterate maker of lists, she could have easily been the founder of the Post-It note had the fates found her at the right time. She put them to good use, as the refrigerator, desks and counter tops of her home still testify.

The serenity prayer was her favorite. What she could change, she worked hard to do. What she could not, she offered to her God.

She enjoyed sending a card in the mail to let you know she was thinking of you. Later, despite her initial doubts, she became comfortable with her computer and loved to send and receive e-mails.  Helen appreciated the funny ones but really loved the spiritual and inspirational.

If outraged by injustice she might utter “bull corn,” and if someone angered her or threatened her children, she might think about sticking out her tongue at them. Of course, she would never actually do it.

She enjoyed traveling with and to see her children. She was always taken by the mountains after living in the flatlands her entire life. She always wished she had a sister but gladly loved and cared for her brothers, who called her an inspiration.

Helen joined Catholic Daughters of America decades ago, became an officer and sang with the St. Margaret choir for years. She loved music, and she often hummed her favorite songs or hymns. It is probably no coincidence she collected miniature angels and hummingbirds.

She enjoyed the friendship and fun of a bowling league as a young adult and, later, her Pokeno group. She loved to dance to Cajun music, work in her yard and watch sports, including those played by and written about by her son.

She was a Eucharistic Minister at St. Margaret, a member of Caring Hearts Church Ministry and a Bible study group. She knelt beside her bed to pray throughout her life, and when she could no longer kneel or get out of her hospital bed, her children gathered next to her and prayed for her. They know heaven now rejoices and welcomes her.

In lieu of flowers, donations in her memory are encouraged to: St. Margaret Catholic School, 2510 Enterprise Blvd., Lake Charles, LA 70601 or Aishel House Apartment Ministry, 1955 University Blvd., Houston, Texas 77030.

A doctor at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center Hospital, after reading Helen’s chart a few weeks before her death, walked into her room to meet her for the first time and said, “You look so much better in person than you do on paper.”

If you have read this far, you should know that the doctor’s words are true with a depth and certainty that far exceed their intended context.