
I remember that first day of summer, June 21, 1974, and the fire that blazed through our Ventnor townhome incinerating everything in its path, including Mom and Dad. Its 47 years later and the memory still burns. But no longer am I that terrified 17-year old girl, jumping from a second story window–I am a survivor.
I’ve survived the loss of my parents, the loss of my son Drew on Memorial Day, 2000 to Muscular Dystrophy, and breast cancer in 2020. I’ve shed a waterfall of tears and experienced raging pain. My scars are both visible and invisible. Now, as I take a quiet moment to reflect, I realize how blessed I am. My beautiful 30- year-old daughter, Jessica, is my best friend; my three sisters (Les, Lisa and Liz) and I share a powerful bond; and I have many friends on whom I can count to share old memories and make new ones. I also have one special life partner, Jim, who inspires me and keeps me humble, usually at the same time.
So, Mom and Dad, I honor and celebrate you, remembering our 17 years together. The rest of these 47 years, I’ve carried your spirit within me, and we move forward together.