Dorrie Coll Landry

Dorrie Coll Landry, of Fort Belvoir, Virginia, died on May 9, 2026. Born on March 15, 1944, in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, she was the daughter of Edward J. Coll and Dorothy Augustine Coll. She grew up in the Brookland area of Washington, D.C., and graduated from St. Anthony’s High School in 1962.

She served 20 years in the Central Intelligence Agency, working in the Directorate of Science and Technology. She accompanied her wasband on three overseas assignments. They divorced in 1999 after 37 years of marriage.

A decent and hardworking woman, she will be remembered with pride and love by her family: her oldest daughter, Dorianne Landry; her only son, Duane M. Landry (Brenda); her youngest daughter, Karen L. Conaway; her four granddaughters, Sarah George (Matt), Haley Landry (Alex), Emily Violetta (Louis), and Jessica Landry; her great-grandson, JT; and her sister, Kathleen Coll Schwebs, who preceded her in death, and Kathleen’s husband, Gary, as well as many friends.

If Dorrie made you laugh or touched your heart in any way, please join her family and friends on May 28, 2026 from 2:00–4:00 p.m. at The Fairfax Retirement Community, where she lived, to share memories, enjoy a glass of champagne, and celebrate her life. Friends are welcome to stop by at any time during the gathering and celebrate Dorrie in whatever way feels meaningful to you. If you are unable to attend, we would love for you to share a photo, a memory, or a message on this page.

In reading through Mom’s journals, we came across a story called The Creek from a writing class many years ago. It gave us a wonderful visual of our Mom, young and healthy, that made us smile, and we wanted to share a piece of it.

“I can remember seemingly endless hot summer days that seemed to languor on forever. I would wait for the sun to rise before I got out of bed. Sometimes it seemed to just pop up like toast in the toaster, and other days it was so slow it seemed like the people on the other side of the earth just didn’t want to let go of it.

When it finally made its appearance, I would toss off my pink chenille bedspread with the red and blue flowers on it and jump into my clothes, which consisted of shorts, a little top and no shoes. I’d look across the street at the field where the Martians had landed, where I had found all my fossils, and where the sun always rose.

Looking back, I realize how much I took my 20/20 vision for granted.”