I pen this with tears. I have never been one to “celebrate the life.” Death is death. Deep loss. Never to be replaced.
Perhaps the sharpest stabs come from the pictures seemingly on every available surface in the apartment of my late mother-in-law, Mrs. Lila Silberstein, about whom I received the call at about 4:30 a.m., Aug. 19, “it’s all over.”
These pictures are all doubled, so to speak, pictures of who is there, silently hiding the pictures of who isn’t there. Pictures of children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, some quite recent and some more than 60 years old — and some delicious in their mirrorlike quality.