Hi, Barbara:

Ruth and I send our love, prayers and condolences as well. I lost my Dad first, and even though we had some major differences, it was very hard. Perhaps the greatest gift was that as the family gathered together and talked about my father and everything came tumbling out, I think that we all came to know him a little better. And appreciate him more. Like there are in me, there were things about my father that ended up hurting the people he loved. He was from a generation of men that wasn't comfortable expressing love, so you had to look for it in small actions. As we looked back on his life from each of our perspectives, we made no attempt to sanitize him. All the hurt came out, along with all the love. Somehow, I think that was alright with my Father. He would have been uncomfortable with a glowing testimony. He knew who he was, and where he had failed. Just as I do. Maybe that made him appreciate the love we had for him because it was real. We loved him for who he was, warts and all.
We all got warts.

I'm sorry that you won't have a chance to gather with family to share memories.

Funny thing, the day my Father was buried, my Mom asked me to buy her a stereo and some CDs. My father didn't like music playing in the house. (As a teenage rebel, what choice did I have except to become a musician?) I got my mother all set up, and bought her a few CDs, and when I came to her apartment the next day, she was listening to a pop music station. I got a big kick out of it. Mom digging Hip Hop. She said "I have to catch up on what's happening in music... I haven't been able to listen to it since the forties."
Rip Van Mom.

I think that my Dad was pleased.

Jerry