I was saddened to hear about your father's passing today. Each death reminds us of others that went before. It somehow taps into that place in our soul where grief resides. Most of the time we can keep it at bay, but each loss opens the door a little wider. The loss of Herbie reminds us of your mother too. So close together in time, it must be hard for you. They were a team in life, inseparable, both in in the physical world and in our minds. Uncle Herbie and Aunt Phyllis to me. One phrase. He just couldn't live without her.

Dear Aunt Phyllis, I figure if anyone is online in heaven, it would be you. So I am writing an update like the calls you always seemed so delighted to take. I returned this week (March 2010)from visiting Carole Jo in Florida and boy, did you raise spectacular kids. Carole made me home-made chicken salad with herbs she grew in her garden, you know, the way she makes complicated, beautiful things look easy. Of course, I was in awe of your paintings in new 'homes' in her house. You would be so thrilled with how each defined its space. My favorite story of the trip was a painting that you had done, and Carole (with your permission) was repainting the leaves at the side of the house in the picture. I marveled at the painting, yes -- but was more impressed how you and Carole Jo could share a canvas, in life and in your work.

It all began the day that Rick brought home his friend named Jon. I instantly fell in love with the boy who always, always referred to me as Mizz. Brown. I then met his mother, who became my friend and confidant for over forty-five years. I treasured our friendship because there was nothing we could not share.and share we did. Herb was nearly as dear to me as he was to her. I will never, never forget all the times we shared. Good or bad, they both were always there for me. This may sound weird but I know that they are with Joe. The boys are fishing and my dear Phyllis is carrying the equipment. My love to you all, and remember I am always here for you.