Aunt Marcie's church taught my mother that the Great Command to "love you neighbor as yourself" was the core of of both American democracy and the Christian faith. My mother took it all very seriously. Not only did she endlessly give things away but stood up for social justice.
Cancer gave my Uncle Wit the freedom to be open, expressive, emotive, talkative and connected to those he has always loved deeply.
Sandra Gabrilove Saltzman, who died late on the night of December 24 at the age of 63, attended the Ethical Culture School in Manhattan, Fieldston High School in Riverdale, NY, Brown University, and New York University School of Law. This eulogy was delivered at her funeral.
This is a petition to the publishers, producers and editors in all the network news organizations and 24-hour cable news channels. Across the spectrum...
I eagerly devoured the entire Redwall series, exploring the world Brian Jacques created, learning the histories of its characters, reaching out to know everything about this creation that had passed from Jacques's mind into my own.
You know we will all die, and hopefully have some sort of ceremony where loved ones and others get to say goodbye to us. But that inevitable death can make a big difference in the way we live our life today.
Had you asked me a week ago if I liked Ray Bradbury, I would have said "Yes, of course." But it's today, reflecting upon his reported "death." that I am most fully moved by the power of his work.
I hadn't seen Ion's daughter in twenty-some odd years. I greeted her warmly and asked how she was doing, thinking she probably had no idea we'd met before. "Not so good," she said, "This is a bad day." Now I knew.
The temple was huge and packed and silent and all her fancy friends were there, as well as many of us girl comics, because we had lost our dear leader (I do see her as my own personal Kim Jong Ill, as she was tiny yet commanded an empire) and so it was our saddest day.
until our eyes meet again, dearest mother, until I am where you are -- above, beyond and over the clouds -- until then, know your heart beats in mine.
To much of the world, naani was anonymous. To me, she was and always will be extraordinary. Her smile was electric, her wisdom unparalleled, and her patience and tolerance enviable. With her passing, we lose a beacon of hope, one that symbolized triumph over war and despair and one who infused simplicity, dignity and relentless love. I so wish I had more time with her.
I discovered too late that I really knew so little about so many deceased friends and colleagues, and only found out about some of their remarkable exploits and achievements when reading their obituaries.
When I was holding her in those last moments as her breaths slowed, her eyes, which had half shut and glazed, suddenly opened, focused on me and then beyond me.
I grieve for Fred Phelps. The man spent a great portion of his time on earth using his gifts in such a hurtful, and ultimately silly way. But I won't picket his funeral. I won't dance on his grave. I will try not to emulate him in any way.
This has been the hardest eulogy for me to write. I cried almost every step of the way. I miss him greatly. I know we all do. His smile, sense of humor, warmth, wisdom and vision. We have lost a giant.
In this week's vlog, I talk about why it can be challenging for us to focus on what truly matters and why we're often caught up in our desire to "get ahead" (aka focus on our resume).