“O Soothest Sleep”

On the first day of Spring 2025, my dear Mother passed into the “Soothest Sleep”.  I was blessed to be next to her when she took her final breath.

Dorsey Lou Justice Woliver was born on March 11, 1931 in Knoxville, Tennessee and lived her entire life in greater Knoxville.  In 1951, she married Charles L. Woliver and they had three sons: Charles Patrick Woliver, Kim Adrian Woliver, and Adam Lorne Woliver.  I am proud to be my Mother’s oldest son!

Mother’s profession was referred to as a “Homemaker” and her responsibilities were as a housekeeper, a house manager, a cook, a nurse, caregiving for her husband and three sons, and all things domestic. Mother was superb!

Somehow she was able to complete all her work and still have time to play with her boys. I remember her sledding with us in the Winter, playing whiffle ball with us in the Summer, catching tadpoles with us in the Spring, and jumping in piles of leaves with us in the Fall.

Dorsey was a caregiver, and before and after her sons left the household to establish their own professions, she took care of her mother, her mother-in-law, her sister, and lastly her elderly husband until his death in 2017.

Known as an avid sports fan, Dorsey enjoyed baseball, football, and basketball.  She was an ardent fan of the UT Vols and the Atlanta Braves.  

Mother professed a strong Christian faith and was a member of Valley Grove Baptist Church for over eighty years.

In closing, I leave you with words by John Keats.

O soft embalmer of the still midnight!

  Shutting with careful fingers and benign

Our gloom-pleased eyes, embower’d from the light,

  Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;

O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,

  In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,

Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws

  Around my bed its lulling charities;

  Then save me, or the passèd day will shine

Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;

Save me from curious conscience, that still lords

  Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards,

  And seal the hushèd casket of my soul.

-John Keats (1795-1821)

CPW