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“Will you love me when sweet music dies

And silence becomes absolute?

The gentle cadence of words and feeling

No longer spinning a web of hope between us.

When the slow, seeping paralysis of mind,

Robbing memory of past joys,

Cause dark clouds of pity to blanket out light

And close forever the window to my soul.

Will you remember the music we shared?

Oboe and flute weaving songs of love,

The cello’s warm depth radiant with peace,

Joined voices etching our hearts in wonder.

For our love has grown strong with music

Infinitely gentle yet robust,

Moving through the seasons of our lives

In patterns of depth and intensity.”


Our mother, Dorothy Allen, wrote this poem many years ago. A curious, creative, intelligent and wonderful woman who was an accomplished violist, scientist and teacher. Mom managed to have multiple careers while raising four daughters and seeing many grandchildren and great grandchildren into this world. Never bored, never boring, with a hunger for knowledge and a genuine interest and curiosity for others.

Predeceased by her husband Malcolm Allen, she will be lovingly remembered by her many friends at Brock House, and her children Jacqueline (Joe), Patricia (Steve), Susan (Neil), Christine (Dan) and her grandchildren Vanessa (Liz), Michael (Hilary), Stephanie (Tyler), David (Claire), Robyn, Calum, Erin (Anders), Sean (Alli) and her great grandchildren Giovanni, Jack and Luke.

As per our mother’s request there will be no service but if you wish to donate please consider Dying with Dignity; an organization that allowed our mother to die as she has lived, on her terms, peacefully at home surrounded by the love and support of family. We would also like to extend our gratitude to the doctors of the Hemlock Aid Society who were incredibly kind and accommodating.

Please click here to donate to Dying with Dignity.


  • Paul Robison
    Posted June 20, 2017 at 9:15 am

    I have such happy memories of Aunty Dorothy (and her cheeky sense of humour) visiting me in Cambridge with Susan. I am still using the little blue rucksack that Dorothy sent me for Christmas when I was ten (she kept on sending presents despite my appalling lack of thank you notes, which says a lot about both of us!).

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