If Nora had a favorite word, I think it was “exquisite.” The day I met her,  twenty-six years ago, when she cooked the first of  many wonderful meals that I would enjoy, I brought along a new painting to show, and Nora declared that it was exquisite. It was a word she used often.  The Thesaurus says that it means:

cultivated , dramatic, elegant, fine, graceful, grand, harmonious, ideal, poetic, refined, stylish, sublime, tasteful

These are all good words to describe Nora and how she tried to live.  She strived to do everything with style, from decorating her home, wrapping a gift, to simply writing a birthday card. Here is something she wrote to one of her grandchildren ...

“You have continued to be a joy-giving person. You are always attentive, courteous, you have a great sense of humor, and always know how to make others feel good.”

These are the qualities Nora admired and aspired to.

If the world is indeed a stage, in Nora’s drama, the first act took place in Nicaragua. She lost her father when she was just a baby, which, I think, filled her with a lifelong need to test the strength of relationships. She was raised by a very dynamic mother: Alicia Miller — a poet and businesswoman, who taught Nora to appreciate the finer things.

In Act 2, Nora sought the comforts of domestic life. She became a wife and mother in California, raising two “exquisite” daughters — Janina and Anna. Nora was very proud of the fine young women her daughters became, and she loved her five grandchildren very much.

Act 3 in any drama is usually the most interesting. That’s when we learn the point of the story. Nora’s third act was not conventional. She did not retire to a little house in Orange County to bake cookies for her grandchildren. Instead, she had grand adventures. She returned to Nicaragua and built her dreamhouse: two of them, in fact! She experienced the joy of living on a beautiful beach in a house that she helped to design, watching the sun paint the Pacific gold every evening. She lived where she could breathe the fragrant tropical air of her childhood  and hear the rustling palm trees and the music of the surf just beyond her window. We all dream of such things. Nora did them.

She was not alone in these adventures.  It is impossible to think of Nora without thinking also of Amilcar. He has stood by her as companion, husband and friend for over thirty years, and has passed every test she gave him. Just last Sunday evening Nora was lamenting how everyone thinks that Amilcar is a saint. She found this very annoying. She knew him better than the rest of us, Nora explained, and he is no saint! Amilcar, as always, had a gentle smile as he heard this. In the end, I think Nora was finally satisfied that he really loved her. He passed the ultimate test. She certainly loved him.

Nora faced her last days with courage and grace, spending as much time as possible with her family. Despite her suffering, she protected us all from pain, fear, and sorrow by continuing to make plans to enjoy life. My last interaction with her was to give her the directions to a restaurant she wanted to visit. She must have known that she would never reach that restaurant, but she let me believe otherwise, so I would not be sad. A simple thing, but to be kind when when one is dying takes great character.

This is a lesson I learned from Nora: that we can choose to give meaning to every moment. That we have a duty to ourselves, our loved ones, and to God to keep on making plans.

In a letter to one of his daughters Mark Twain wrote: “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do...Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

Nora did all of these things. Exquisitely.

— Don Dixon, Nora's son-in-law, April 20, 2007