My oldest sibling passed away last month. We flew to NY for the wake and funeral.

She and her husband moved to Brooklyn after they retired.

One may ask. “Why? It’s not exactly Miami Beach.”

It’s because this is where they first met and began their lives over 50 years ago. They got married and raised their girls in the burbs, but promise to return when the girls grew up and started their own lives

They purchased a co- op in the heart of hipster-ville (Prospect Park) and did all their favorite things.

She joined the quilting club and the community garden where she was the master composter

( she called a “shitty” job, but someone had to do it)

He did small paying jobs like theater usher and playing extras in TV shows and movies. They also had a lifetime membership to Lincoln center .

Everything they did was in walking distance or a subway ride away . The car was only taken out on weekends to go to the burbs and and visit the grandchildren and siblings.

Once a year, they would take a big trip. One year was a Virgin Island cruise followed by Hawaii for their 40th wedding anniversary.

They were living their best lives. For their 70th birthday, they took a trip to Italy with dear friends.

It was shortly after that trip that my sister was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.

Memorial Sloan- Kettering seemed to have caught it early. She underwent surgery and a full round of chemo. All was going well for a year or so when they took their cruise to Alaska.

During the pandemic, nodules starts to show up on the cat scans and she did a few experimental treatments. Things were stable for roughly two years, that is until a tumor formed between her stomach and small intestine.

It prevented her from eating and she began to lose a great deal of weight. She was too weak for treatments.

Luckily, I got to see her for her 75th birthday. Though frail and connected to many IV tubes, her mind and humor were as sharp as always. She kept her mind busy with reading and researching my family. I learned more about my fathers side of the family through pictures of my dad, aunt and uncle as small children. It was an automatic history lesson.

The day after I flew back home, she announced that she was stopping all treatments and entering hospice care.

She new the end was near and you could tell from her demeanor and actions that she accepted it. We talked on the phone a few times a week. The last call was Saturday, October 1st.

She peacefully passed later that week.

The morning of the wake, I walked a few blocks and stopped into a market. As I was walking, I took in the shops, homes and people. New York continues to be a great American melting pot; rich in diversity. Shops were local; some old, some new. There were very few chains. Owners opened the chain lock to begin business and hosed down their front sidewalks.

Parents walked their preschoolers to the Treehouse Montessori school. Some of the tots rode their scooters and were excited to see their classmates. It was amazing to see little kids in a big city. I could easily sense the resilience and street smarts they exhuded . As I walked down the streets, I would hear a different language being spoken by adults and children.

The morning of our departure, my niece and her family treated us to breakfast at a diner in an adjacent neighborhood. She explained this is where she and her husband first met. In time, the neighborhood experienced a ” French ” resurgence. The residents are from France and Quebec. It was beautiful to overhear the many French conversations.

If you can’t go out and see the world, the world can come to you. When the kids leave the confines of their neighborhood, they’ll be fully prepared to conquer anything.

The people, places and stories. I can understand why she loved it there.