http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/ Wed, 10 Mar 2010 04:43:44 -0700 MyBB http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=14 Mon, 03 Aug 2009 21:08:35 -0600 joannearena http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=14 http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13 Thu, 25 Jun 2009 19:32:43 -0600 Harriette http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=13
Glad I found this site and will recommend it to all my friends who are coping with the loss of their loved ones.

Losing a loved one hurts- healing is hard. I try to celebrate their lives.

Losing a pet is just as hard.

Thank you for this site.
Harriette]]>
Glad I found this site and will recommend it to all my friends who are coping with the loss of their loved ones.

Losing a loved one hurts- healing is hard. I try to celebrate their lives.

Losing a pet is just as hard.

Thank you for this site.
Harriette]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=12 Sun, 31 May 2009 20:09:42 -0600 BirdsOfAFeather http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=12 I miss you Cherokee. Every time I go for a walk in the woods I still look for you, I still call your name. You were my little buddy, you were so sweet. I remember when you let the little injured parakeet stay in your cage with you, you were like a big brother to her.
Cherokee you were the best dancer of any bird that I have ever had, or have ever known. I will alway's miss you my little pal. If I didn't believe that we would be together again one day, I don't think that I could bare the loss. I know that I will see you and all of my little critter friends again one day. I love you Cherokee, I always will.[attachment=12]]]> I miss you Cherokee. Every time I go for a walk in the woods I still look for you, I still call your name. You were my little buddy, you were so sweet. I remember when you let the little injured parakeet stay in your cage with you, you were like a big brother to her.
Cherokee you were the best dancer of any bird that I have ever had, or have ever known. I will alway's miss you my little pal. If I didn't believe that we would be together again one day, I don't think that I could bare the loss. I know that I will see you and all of my little critter friends again one day. I love you Cherokee, I always will.[attachment=12]]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=11 Mon, 02 Feb 2009 13:52:57 -0700 tictac13 http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=11
I am writing this memorial about two very special people, my mom and dad. I was always very close to both of them. You might say I was a momma’s girl. We always did everything together. When I started my first job and I received my first paycheck I immediately took my mother out for dinner. My father always liked the both of us to do things together. We would sometimes go shopping and when the morning came around we would enjoy having coffee with long conversations about nothing. I lived with them most of my life. When I got married in 1990 my husband and I lived on the same block as my parents. Every day when I was finished with my chores I would walk to their house and spend most of the day with them. Then when my husband would come home from work we would have dinner with them. My mother became sick shortly after I got married and I was forced to quit my job. My husband is a very loving person and he thought I should be home with my mother. My mother became sick a lot through the years but miraculously would pull through. My husband and I had three apartments over the years, but I was never far from the nest. They were everything to me. In 2001 my parents sold their house and helped us buy our first home. They moved in with us and lived upstairs in a separate apartment. They were always there for us and we were always there for them. We had our ups and downs like any family, but when it comes to your loved ones all is eventually forgiven. When my mother became ill the last time, my husband and I practically lived at the hospital. She started to recuperate and was doing very well. The last time we were able to communicate with each other at the hospital we were talking and laughing with promises that she would soon be coming home. The last thing she said before I left was I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow. During the night we received that dreaded call. She had a stroke and from then on I would never hear her beautiful voice again. The following week I was at the hospital day and night forever holding her hand and knew that she could hear my voice. My mother passed away at 7:30am on August 30, 2006. She was 88 years old. When people would say that she lived a good life and I was so lucky to have had her so long, it was something that I didn’t want to hear. It was like a dream. I could not believe that she was gone. For two years I was devastated. I grieved so much for her. There were times when I just wanted to run away. But you can’t run away from yourself. You have to believe they are in a better place and always with you. She will always live on in my heart. There are beautiful memories that only she and I shared. I never realized how much my father missed her. He tried so hard for two years to make a life for himself. Even though he lived with us there was a part of him that was so alone, and my husband and I could not fill that void. He became ill the beginning of this year and started to fail about four months ago. He stayed home with us under the care of hospice. Even though he was sick I enjoyed having him downstairs with us. My father and I became so close over the last two months. We shared moments together that I will always keep close to my heart. The day that I lost him he had gone into a coma. I would speak to him because I knew that he could hear me. He would tell me that when the time came for us to say goodbye I should know in my heart that he was truly happy and finally not in any pain. He passed away on November 1, 2008 at 11am. It’s been almost three months since my father left me. My heart aches so much for him. Sometimes I feel like the pain is too much for me to bear. When I am alone at home I call out his name and say to him I know you told me to be happy for you, that you are finally at peace, but that doesn’t mean I can’t miss you with all my being. Once again I find myself set back again in the days when I first lost my mother. I feel like an orphan. Lost without the both of them. It feels so strange not being able to ask their advice. I look forward to the time when the pain is less and I can look at their pictures without falling apart. The days ahead will be hard, but through the grace of God I have my wonderful husband.

I know someday we will see each other again but until then they will always be a part of me. I will continue in their footsteps. They were two very special people that I was fortunate to have as my parents. Until the day I can finally say hello, Safely Home Mom and Dad and God Bless!]]>
I am writing this memorial about two very special people, my mom and dad. I was always very close to both of them. You might say I was a momma’s girl. We always did everything together. When I started my first job and I received my first paycheck I immediately took my mother out for dinner. My father always liked the both of us to do things together. We would sometimes go shopping and when the morning came around we would enjoy having coffee with long conversations about nothing. I lived with them most of my life. When I got married in 1990 my husband and I lived on the same block as my parents. Every day when I was finished with my chores I would walk to their house and spend most of the day with them. Then when my husband would come home from work we would have dinner with them. My mother became sick shortly after I got married and I was forced to quit my job. My husband is a very loving person and he thought I should be home with my mother. My mother became sick a lot through the years but miraculously would pull through. My husband and I had three apartments over the years, but I was never far from the nest. They were everything to me. In 2001 my parents sold their house and helped us buy our first home. They moved in with us and lived upstairs in a separate apartment. They were always there for us and we were always there for them. We had our ups and downs like any family, but when it comes to your loved ones all is eventually forgiven. When my mother became ill the last time, my husband and I practically lived at the hospital. She started to recuperate and was doing very well. The last time we were able to communicate with each other at the hospital we were talking and laughing with promises that she would soon be coming home. The last thing she said before I left was I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow. During the night we received that dreaded call. She had a stroke and from then on I would never hear her beautiful voice again. The following week I was at the hospital day and night forever holding her hand and knew that she could hear my voice. My mother passed away at 7:30am on August 30, 2006. She was 88 years old. When people would say that she lived a good life and I was so lucky to have had her so long, it was something that I didn’t want to hear. It was like a dream. I could not believe that she was gone. For two years I was devastated. I grieved so much for her. There were times when I just wanted to run away. But you can’t run away from yourself. You have to believe they are in a better place and always with you. She will always live on in my heart. There are beautiful memories that only she and I shared. I never realized how much my father missed her. He tried so hard for two years to make a life for himself. Even though he lived with us there was a part of him that was so alone, and my husband and I could not fill that void. He became ill the beginning of this year and started to fail about four months ago. He stayed home with us under the care of hospice. Even though he was sick I enjoyed having him downstairs with us. My father and I became so close over the last two months. We shared moments together that I will always keep close to my heart. The day that I lost him he had gone into a coma. I would speak to him because I knew that he could hear me. He would tell me that when the time came for us to say goodbye I should know in my heart that he was truly happy and finally not in any pain. He passed away on November 1, 2008 at 11am. It’s been almost three months since my father left me. My heart aches so much for him. Sometimes I feel like the pain is too much for me to bear. When I am alone at home I call out his name and say to him I know you told me to be happy for you, that you are finally at peace, but that doesn’t mean I can’t miss you with all my being. Once again I find myself set back again in the days when I first lost my mother. I feel like an orphan. Lost without the both of them. It feels so strange not being able to ask their advice. I look forward to the time when the pain is less and I can look at their pictures without falling apart. The days ahead will be hard, but through the grace of God I have my wonderful husband.

I know someday we will see each other again but until then they will always be a part of me. I will continue in their footsteps. They were two very special people that I was fortunate to have as my parents. Until the day I can finally say hello, Safely Home Mom and Dad and God Bless!]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=10 Sat, 13 Dec 2008 12:28:33 -0700 admin http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=10
He was angel, my answered prayer. I truely beleive that. I had prayed to God that I wanted a a throughbred/hanoverian cross bay with four white socks and a big blaze...and he delivered him. He was to a "T" what I had always wanted. Now there is such a void in my heart, and nothing seems to fill it. I fear that my grief is taking a toll on the people close to me. They don't understand...I should be over it by now. And I know I should be making that progress but I just can't seem to let it go for whatever reason. I need help with this. Any help, suggestions, peace of mind is what i'm seeking.

"If tears could build a staircase
and memories a lane,
I would walk all the way to Heaven,
and bring you back again."

Posted by Admin for BrokenHeartedEQ]]>
He was angel, my answered prayer. I truely beleive that. I had prayed to God that I wanted a a throughbred/hanoverian cross bay with four white socks and a big blaze...and he delivered him. He was to a "T" what I had always wanted. Now there is such a void in my heart, and nothing seems to fill it. I fear that my grief is taking a toll on the people close to me. They don't understand...I should be over it by now. And I know I should be making that progress but I just can't seem to let it go for whatever reason. I need help with this. Any help, suggestions, peace of mind is what i'm seeking.

"If tears could build a staircase
and memories a lane,
I would walk all the way to Heaven,
and bring you back again."

Posted by Admin for BrokenHeartedEQ]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=9 Fri, 05 Dec 2008 20:31:29 -0700 batistaa15314 http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=9 I lost my parents in September and October 19, both passed on
the same date within a month.
They were married 65 years and were both 85 years old, at the
time of their passing.
Christmas is so hard to deal with this year, I wish it was over and
its not even here yet.
Our family has 3 siblings 2 boys and myself,one girl, 6 grand kids
and 3 great grand kids.
The cd on this website is comforting and if you get a chance to
listen to it , treat yourself and buy it.

Chris M]]> I lost my parents in September and October 19, both passed on
the same date within a month.
They were married 65 years and were both 85 years old, at the
time of their passing.
Christmas is so hard to deal with this year, I wish it was over and
its not even here yet.
Our family has 3 siblings 2 boys and myself,one girl, 6 grand kids
and 3 great grand kids.
The cd on this website is comforting and if you get a chance to
listen to it , treat yourself and buy it.

Chris M]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=8 Tue, 02 Dec 2008 21:06:36 -0700 BrokenHeartedEQ http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=8
He was angel, my answered prayer. I truely beleive that. I had prayed to God that I wanted a a throughbred/hanoverian cross bay with four white socks and a big blaze...and he delivered him. He was to a "T" what I had always wanted. Now there is such a void in my heart, and nothing seems to fill it. I fear that my grief is taking a toll on the people close to me. They don't understand...I should be over it by now. And I know I should be making that progress but I just can't seem to let it go for whatever reason. I need help with this. Any help, suggestions, peace of mind is what i'm seeking.

"If tears could build a staircase
and memories a lane,
I would walk all the way to Heaven,
and bring you back again."

]]>
He was angel, my answered prayer. I truely beleive that. I had prayed to God that I wanted a a throughbred/hanoverian cross bay with four white socks and a big blaze...and he delivered him. He was to a "T" what I had always wanted. Now there is such a void in my heart, and nothing seems to fill it. I fear that my grief is taking a toll on the people close to me. They don't understand...I should be over it by now. And I know I should be making that progress but I just can't seem to let it go for whatever reason. I need help with this. Any help, suggestions, peace of mind is what i'm seeking.

"If tears could build a staircase
and memories a lane,
I would walk all the way to Heaven,
and bring you back again."

]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=7 Sun, 23 Nov 2008 01:47:50 -0700 ericaw http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=7
Even though I would have struggled to comment at his service I refrained from saying anything in fear of hurting his current girlfriend's feelings. Plus I'm pretty good at fruedian slips, so not a good time speakup. Also I didn't take time off work, again thinking it'd be bad form (really small town!)

Thanks for this board, it makes me feel like I have a group

Lesson learned (or being learned): don't procrastinate grief.

...keep processing!

Erica]]>
Even though I would have struggled to comment at his service I refrained from saying anything in fear of hurting his current girlfriend's feelings. Plus I'm pretty good at fruedian slips, so not a good time speakup. Also I didn't take time off work, again thinking it'd be bad form (really small town!)

Thanks for this board, it makes me feel like I have a group

Lesson learned (or being learned): don't procrastinate grief.

...keep processing!

Erica]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=6 Fri, 19 Sep 2008 15:15:30 -0600 admin http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=6 http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=5 Thu, 18 Sep 2008 07:22:57 -0600 Cat http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=5 Cat.]]> Cat.]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=4 Tue, 09 Sep 2008 16:42:52 -0600 admin http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=4
[attachment=3]


In Loving Memory

A dedicated nurse-anesthetist for 37 years, my father was revered for both his teaching ability and consummate professionalism. He served a term on the board of the AANA and was a sought-after clinical instructor in his field.

Although Daddy’s professional achievements were substantial, his devotion and joy lay in his family. An active United Methodist, scout leader for Troop124 in years past and youth softball coach, he did his best to show his family the utmost love by involving himself as much as possible in their activities.

His name was Larry - he was my father. And, I never imagined how vast the hole would be when he was ripped out of my world.

I called him Daddy up until his death - even though my own children are adults. However ridiculous it may sound for a grown woman to refer to her father as “Daddy” is neither here nor there. It simply is - and he was never anything else but Daddy to me.

We had an alarmingly simple relationship. It appeared awkward in some respects, but it worked for us. He loved me very much, just like I loved him - but, we weren’t close - not in a conventional sense. We just didn’t have much in common. But, who says the value of a relationship is based on the number of words we speak to one another? Maybe a relationship’s worth is more subjective than that - Maybe its value is determined by the needs of the participants, rather than the content of the encounters.

I didn’t know much about Daddy other than the basics. I’m not even sure what his favorite color was - although I remember him wearing a lot of navy and hunter green…. I suppose I should be appalled by my lack of knowledge - but, surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me. Does it really matter what Daddy’s favorite color was? Is it important to remember that?

Instead, I remember other things. I remember that he hated the hymn “(Up from the Grave) He Arose” because he said it sounded like a funeral dirge. I remember when they sang it in church, he would always lean over close to me and make snoring noises. I always laughed - so did he. And when Mama got onto us, we laughed harder.

I remember that he loved gadgets - fishing lures, pocket knives, circular saws and overalls. He collected coins, loved the beach and puttering around the yard. He loved estate sales and eating lunch off the hot dog cart outside of Lowe’s. He loved me, my brother and my sister. He loved his grandchildren. He loved Mama.

As a father he excelled, but as a grandfather, he soared. He was utterly devoted to his 5 grandchildren. One of my favorite memories of him is walking into the living room and seeing him with my 3 yr old niece, sitting in the floor. She was painting his toenails (and most of his toes) while he sat there - perfectly content to submit to that unmanly thing, simply because the Baby Girl was amused by it.

He never talked to me about what was in his soul. He never shared his dreams with me, or spoke about his fears. He spoke with my brother, though - often - and my sister, too. For a long time, I thought they knew Daddy in a way that was denied me. Sometimes the thought made me feel like a visitor at home. It wasn’t until I was grown that I realized what the difference really was - they were the same - my father, brother and sister…. Scientific, objective, analytical people. And their path was not my path. I’m the dreamer, the writer, the artist, the philosopher. At least, that was my theory.

After his death, I found a folded up piece of old notebook paper in a box where he kept knickknacks. Nothing of value to anyone but him - old campaign buttons, cuff links, novelty coins, and this faded piece of notebook paper. A poem. Admittedly, a very bad poem….. My first poem. Written when I was 13 years old and full of adolescent angst. Embarrassing, really….

59 days after he died - on the day after my 43rd birthday….Tucked away in a box full of things only he treasured. Thirty years, he’d kept it. The proof I was right. He didn’t understand me - couldn’t, really, because we were so very different. But, that didn’t change the fact that I was special in his eyes.

I wonder sometimes if I should regret that I didn’t know his deep self.

In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t.

Things between us were simple - are simple. It didn’t matter who he was inside - what he thought about, what he dreamed of… I loved him. He loved me.

His name was Larry - and he was my father.[attachment=3]]]>
[attachment=3]


In Loving Memory

A dedicated nurse-anesthetist for 37 years, my father was revered for both his teaching ability and consummate professionalism. He served a term on the board of the AANA and was a sought-after clinical instructor in his field.

Although Daddy’s professional achievements were substantial, his devotion and joy lay in his family. An active United Methodist, scout leader for Troop124 in years past and youth softball coach, he did his best to show his family the utmost love by involving himself as much as possible in their activities.

His name was Larry - he was my father. And, I never imagined how vast the hole would be when he was ripped out of my world.

I called him Daddy up until his death - even though my own children are adults. However ridiculous it may sound for a grown woman to refer to her father as “Daddy” is neither here nor there. It simply is - and he was never anything else but Daddy to me.

We had an alarmingly simple relationship. It appeared awkward in some respects, but it worked for us. He loved me very much, just like I loved him - but, we weren’t close - not in a conventional sense. We just didn’t have much in common. But, who says the value of a relationship is based on the number of words we speak to one another? Maybe a relationship’s worth is more subjective than that - Maybe its value is determined by the needs of the participants, rather than the content of the encounters.

I didn’t know much about Daddy other than the basics. I’m not even sure what his favorite color was - although I remember him wearing a lot of navy and hunter green…. I suppose I should be appalled by my lack of knowledge - but, surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me. Does it really matter what Daddy’s favorite color was? Is it important to remember that?

Instead, I remember other things. I remember that he hated the hymn “(Up from the Grave) He Arose” because he said it sounded like a funeral dirge. I remember when they sang it in church, he would always lean over close to me and make snoring noises. I always laughed - so did he. And when Mama got onto us, we laughed harder.

I remember that he loved gadgets - fishing lures, pocket knives, circular saws and overalls. He collected coins, loved the beach and puttering around the yard. He loved estate sales and eating lunch off the hot dog cart outside of Lowe’s. He loved me, my brother and my sister. He loved his grandchildren. He loved Mama.

As a father he excelled, but as a grandfather, he soared. He was utterly devoted to his 5 grandchildren. One of my favorite memories of him is walking into the living room and seeing him with my 3 yr old niece, sitting in the floor. She was painting his toenails (and most of his toes) while he sat there - perfectly content to submit to that unmanly thing, simply because the Baby Girl was amused by it.

He never talked to me about what was in his soul. He never shared his dreams with me, or spoke about his fears. He spoke with my brother, though - often - and my sister, too. For a long time, I thought they knew Daddy in a way that was denied me. Sometimes the thought made me feel like a visitor at home. It wasn’t until I was grown that I realized what the difference really was - they were the same - my father, brother and sister…. Scientific, objective, analytical people. And their path was not my path. I’m the dreamer, the writer, the artist, the philosopher. At least, that was my theory.

After his death, I found a folded up piece of old notebook paper in a box where he kept knickknacks. Nothing of value to anyone but him - old campaign buttons, cuff links, novelty coins, and this faded piece of notebook paper. A poem. Admittedly, a very bad poem….. My first poem. Written when I was 13 years old and full of adolescent angst. Embarrassing, really….

59 days after he died - on the day after my 43rd birthday….Tucked away in a box full of things only he treasured. Thirty years, he’d kept it. The proof I was right. He didn’t understand me - couldn’t, really, because we were so very different. But, that didn’t change the fact that I was special in his eyes.

I wonder sometimes if I should regret that I didn’t know his deep self.

In retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t.

Things between us were simple - are simple. It didn’t matter who he was inside - what he thought about, what he dreamed of… I loved him. He loved me.

His name was Larry - and he was my father.[attachment=3]]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3 Thu, 07 Aug 2008 18:52:12 -0600 admin http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=3
I am Susan, the founder and creator of this website, and developer of the products we feature thus far. My mission for this website is to provide an unprecedented service to help people to deal with the emotional pain of loss caused by the death of a loved one. My goals include developing an interactive and holistic cyber community comprised of a compassionate and empathetic network of individuals, groups and organizations; developing innovative bereavement support products and services; and a community dedicated to the betterment of humankind. I hope and pray that you will find comfort at our website. All this flourished from my idea for our compilation CD product, Love is Eternal - Songs of Love, Loss, Courage and Survival. I was always comforted when I heard the featured songs, especially because many of them are actual expressions of the artists' own loss, and the sharing of our personal experiences is why support groups are so helpful to people who are grieving.

Now, in accordance with message board guidelines, I'd like to share my very recent personal experience with loss.My parents have been gone for many years, and losing each one was devastating. However, fortunately for me I had two maternal aunts that became excellent surrogates. For two women that never had children of their own, they fulfilled a tall order for my brother, my cousins and me. However, quite unexpectedly one aunt, the one who lived closest to me and with whom I spent an enormous amount of time, passed away recently on April 9th.You can learn more about her at our Memorials section, grieftogreatness.com first memorial. Now, once again, nothing seems right with the world. I feel as if I lost my best friend, and another parent. My interaction with her was one in which I derived great joy. We spent our time together shopping and dining, sharing small pleasures with each other. She loved the CD, and was looking forward to the launching of the website. Now I find myself longing for her and missing her immensely. She lived to a ripe old age, but in many ways she had just begun to live, and I was thrilled to be a part of her life, at this time in my life.]]>
I am Susan, the founder and creator of this website, and developer of the products we feature thus far. My mission for this website is to provide an unprecedented service to help people to deal with the emotional pain of loss caused by the death of a loved one. My goals include developing an interactive and holistic cyber community comprised of a compassionate and empathetic network of individuals, groups and organizations; developing innovative bereavement support products and services; and a community dedicated to the betterment of humankind. I hope and pray that you will find comfort at our website. All this flourished from my idea for our compilation CD product, Love is Eternal - Songs of Love, Loss, Courage and Survival. I was always comforted when I heard the featured songs, especially because many of them are actual expressions of the artists' own loss, and the sharing of our personal experiences is why support groups are so helpful to people who are grieving.

Now, in accordance with message board guidelines, I'd like to share my very recent personal experience with loss.My parents have been gone for many years, and losing each one was devastating. However, fortunately for me I had two maternal aunts that became excellent surrogates. For two women that never had children of their own, they fulfilled a tall order for my brother, my cousins and me. However, quite unexpectedly one aunt, the one who lived closest to me and with whom I spent an enormous amount of time, passed away recently on April 9th.You can learn more about her at our Memorials section, grieftogreatness.com first memorial. Now, once again, nothing seems right with the world. I feel as if I lost my best friend, and another parent. My interaction with her was one in which I derived great joy. We spent our time together shopping and dining, sharing small pleasures with each other. She loved the CD, and was looking forward to the launching of the website. Now I find myself longing for her and missing her immensely. She lived to a ripe old age, but in many ways she had just begun to live, and I was thrilled to be a part of her life, at this time in my life.]]> http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=1 Thu, 07 Aug 2008 18:42:00 -0600 admin http://grieftogreatness.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=1
Ida dressed impeccably and had a way of accessorizing that made her look dressed-up even when wearing casual clothes. She always looked fashionable even in her oldest of clothes. Her attention to her appearance was a constant, no less for a trip to the grocery store or the movies.

Most importantly, Ida was pure sweetness, and a gentle and loving human being. My cousins who grew up in the same house with her said that she never had a harsh word for either of them. Family, friends and everyone she encountered, just felt happy to be in her presence. I can attest that I certainly did.]]>
Ida dressed impeccably and had a way of accessorizing that made her look dressed-up even when wearing casual clothes. She always looked fashionable even in her oldest of clothes. Her attention to her appearance was a constant, no less for a trip to the grocery store or the movies.

Most importantly, Ida was pure sweetness, and a gentle and loving human being. My cousins who grew up in the same house with her said that she never had a harsh word for either of them. Family, friends and everyone she encountered, just felt happy to be in her presence. I can attest that I certainly did.]]>