I am 78 years old and I have had the privilege of speaking about my mother
“Ruthie” in the present tense for at least the past 76 and a half years. That ended a
week ago when, at a hundred and one years old, she left us.
I didn’t cry when my grandparents died. I didn’t cry when my father died. I didn’t
cry when my uncles died and I didn’t cry when my brother died. We held family
Minyan’s on Zoom to say Kaddish. Our children, grand children and other relatives
and friends attended. On the last night my daughter Neely read a poem she wrote
about “Grandma Ruthie.” I cried then and I am crying now.