Wednesday, December 7, 2016


We all bear the scars of private wounds and the agonizing depth of profound losses. The cruel aspects of life are indiscriminate and inevitable. There is no escape.

Remembering the loved ones who were subtracted from our midst is all we have left, and the memories are sacred. They warm the heart, when the soul seems to have perished. They fill the empty void that gnaws relentlessly.

My mother Marie was nearly three years older than her sister Ann. Ann was my cousin Nancy's mother (Nancy, who lives here in Tennessee).

Both sisters were born and raised in New Jersey. Later, when my Mom lived in California, she and Ann remained extremely close. The distance of three thousand miles never diminished their bond. They were not only close, they were also very much alike in many ways.

It seems to me much more than a coincidence that both sisters died on the same date: December the 7th. This will always haunt me.

Most of these photos have been posted before. I simply had an urge to post them again.

 My aunt Ann (left) and my mother Marie

 Marie (left) and Ann

Ann (left)
my Mom is holding Figaro, the family cat 

At Cape Cod 
Ann on left

Aunt Ann and her husband Jack
in Florida

My mom in Solvang, California

The last photo ever taken of Ann and Marie,
on a visit in the Ozarks