This memorial website was created to share information and stories about Wendy Lacey, a loving mother and grandmother, kind-hearted friend, and all around kick-butt lady who loved to laugh. We will remember her forever.
MEMORIAL SERVICE/CELEBRATION:
A celebration of life ceremony will be held on Saturday, July 18 at 1:00 pm in Richland, Washington. Ceremony location: Events at Sunset, 915 By-Pass Highway.
Our mother found funerals depressing and hence we are going to celebrate her life with stories and laughter as much as possible. Her favorite color was blue so you can honor her memory by wearing that. If you don't have blue, wear your favorite color. Casual and colorful attire is encouraged.
Wendy's favorite charities are the Humane Society and the Yellow Ribbon Fund and she would prefer that donations in her name were made in lieu of flowers.
Tributes
Leave a tributeSkipper could have been the brother of our Cuddles dog, here and there after. We all share the living connections and all old memories.
At first, sorry to have her move to Alburquerque, but soon realized what a wonderful, fulfilling life she was having with family, and Skipper when he came into her life, and her volunteer work at the Museum. I was so delighted to know she was able to be sharing the remarkable background she had of nuclear power. In our phone calls, it was interesting to hear what she was doing at the museum, the people she was meeting and realizing the common interests they had. And, knowing how much she was enjoying the activities with Hugh, Karen Shannon and Rachel. Much more to add another time. She was indeed an inspiration, what knowledge she was able to share!
Our prayers are with you and your family.
Sincerely,
Bob, Phyllis and Blackie Rose
Walking along the arroyo path most every morning.
Headphones wrapped around her forehead.
Usually a hat covering her face.
Always leash in hand.
Her face blank. The mind somewhere else.
Deep in long-ago calculations? Secrets of Sandia of Hanford of National Security? Dreaming of trips in the past, planning for journeys in the future?
I don't know what she listened to on those headphones.
But she always popped them off when we met on the trail.
She knew the names and stories of every dog along the path.
Greeting them by name as Skip skipped toward his doggie pals, rearing up on his rear legs to greet them paws extended in play.
The small dogs puffed cheeks to greet him. Then played. The sweet dogs sniffed and played. The mean dogs snarled, then sniffed, then played.
Skip smiled. He always smiled the disarming smile as a little white dog could smile. His eyes obscured with hair; his whole body wagging with greeting.
I didn't know her by name: Wendy Kay Lacey.
I knew her as Skip's mom. Hugh's mom. Shannon and Rachel's grandmother.
Some days she wasn't on the walking path. Once she told me, she liked to start later in the dark days of January to walk into the warmth of the sun. On those days, often I would see her walking the path as I headed to work and lazy weekend mornings. And sometimes she and Skip would be missing for days and days. But after a day or a week or a month, Sami and Ora and me saw her and Skip again. And they returned with tail and tales of travel and adventure with friends and family.
I heard the call out on the police radio: A pedestrian and a dog. Anaheim and Wyoming Northeast. My neighborhood. Skip's walking path. The Journal photographer loaded up his cameras and scrambled out of the newsroom. The sun was up.
I hoped. I feared they would not be back on our winding buckaroo trail.
Sometimes walking beside us, stopping to watch the clouds, talking of her children and grandchildren, of weddings and volleyball games, of PHD's obtained and new jobs. But mostly of travel.
She shared the excitement of Seattle, when my oldest headed Northwest for work, saying it would be all OK there for him in his new adventure.
Of a long driving trip all the way from Albuquerque to the Pacific Northwest through California. Telling of when Skip was attacked at the park, and she as his mother protecting him. Extending the trip for the traveling pair to recover in California. Returning to Albuquerque with a more difficult gait, and with Skip's shaved leg showing off his victory wounds. But walking again. Into the sun.
Often a conversation of only a few words, a few sighs, a sharing of a bag for doggie pickup. A plan of a future trip. A few words about the beauty of the Pacific Northwest, but its lack of sun.
Sometimes we met on the trail, traveling different ways; stopping for a few minutes as our paths crossed. Sometimes we walked together heading the same way: In the summer, stopping in the shade to let the dogs sniff; In the winter, stopping in patches of sunlight.
Always feeling the warmth of New Mexico on our faces as the dogs danced their dance of leashes and leaves and squatting and sniffing.
Always traveling with Skip. Skipper arriving first.
Heading toward the sun.
My condolence goes out to you at this time. I had never had the pleasure of meeting your loved ones. I reside here in ABQ and heard about their sad story and wanted to let all of you know you are in my thoughts. May the memories you have comfort you day by day. As an animal lover myself I will make a donation to the Animal Humane Society in Memory of Skipper and Wendy.
A hug from a stranger- Sincerely, Janet McLaughlin
May your memories be for a blessing to all who loved both of you.
Leave a Tribute
Skipper could have been the brother of our Cuddles dog, here and there after. We all share the living connections and all old memories.
Visiting the Hippie Commune
This story was sent to me by Rick White, Wendy's son-in-law...
The first time Wendy visited us at Lost Valley Education Center was less than outstanding She wasn’t happy about us being there, living on a “Hippie Commune in the woods”. Most of this visit she didn’t venture out of our cabin. This was possibly due to the fear of meeting a marauding naked hippie running through the woods, or maybe just so she could really soak in that we were a family of five, living in a 750 sqft cabin, with no bathroom or kitchen. She was forced to join the community during meal times though, and appeared bent on letting everyone know that she wasn’t happy about being there. During meals, several of the community tried to strike up a conversation with her but were met with crossed arms (her favorite position it seemed), and one word answers. Needless to say, we didn’t think another visit would soon follow.
The next visited was the one I remember most about Wendy. For whatever reason, this time she seemed to be making an effort to at least see what the place was all about. I’d like to think that in some way, Lost Valley had a softening effect on her. I was cooking the community dinner with Charlie Tilt. I say “cooking” in a loose sense, because Charlie was the cook, and I his willing helper. Charlie is a lovely, gentle man. Being that Charlie and I were a regular cooking team, we had had several conversations about Wendy and our relationship. Surprising both Charlie and I, Wendy walked in and assumed her cross-armed position on one side of the island. Her gaze left little doubt that she assumed our poorly equipped community kitchen was the original source of most of the food-borne illnesses that plagued the world.
But Charlie was amazing. He kept engaging her in conversation, often asking her for advice on preparing the evening meal, even though he was one of the best cooks at Lost Valley. Before long, Wendy had donned one of our stained aprons and was pitching in helping to prepare the community dinner. She smiled and even laughed a few times.
During our pre-meal circle, we held hands and sang a song together. At least in my mind, it was probably the nicest time she and I ever spent together.
DC Zoo
My mother joined my family on a DC summer vacation and we had such a wonderful time. She posed for this outside the zoo entrance prior to entry. We did get to see the pandas, going potty, which made us laugh.