Welcome to the memorial page for
Frances Ver Heul
April 15, 1915 ~ December 14, 2017 (age 102) 102 Years Old Light a Candle
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A candle was lit by Don & Joan Willemsen
on January 11, 2018 2:40 PM
Message from Lowell VerHeul
December 19, 2017 8:37 AM
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remember'd kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
(From Tennyson's "Tears, Idle Tears")
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remember'd kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
(From Tennyson's "Tears, Idle Tears")
Message from Janet Sharp
December 18, 2017 5:44 PM
I will always remember "Auntie Fran", even though, she wasn't my Aunt. She loved you, all, so.
Message from Lowell VerHeul
December 19, 2017 8:40 AM
Yes, Janet, her nieces and nephews were all of different temperaments, had different interests, lived in different locations. But she engaged with all, embraced all, found things to love in all. Thank you for your memory.
Message from Mona VerHeul Vellema
December 17, 2017 3:03 PM
Auntie Fran was a very important person in my life. As a child she showered me with affection, attention and uncondional love! What was even more remarkable is that she did this to all her nieces and nephews. Sunday’s were special because first we had coffee time at Auntie Fran’s house after church and then she came to our house for dinner. After dinner she would read endless stories to me, play games and cut out countless numbers of paper doll clothes for me. We were not a huggy family but Auntie Fran always had a big hug for me and I loved sitting on her lap. She conveyed this sense of specialness to all of us. She was our grandma!
Auntie Fran would attend all my band and choir and church programs and play performances. I would look for her in the audience. She managed to do this for all of us. At graduations ——-it would be tricky for her but she made it to everyone.
Auntie Fran was a wonderful baker——-my brother Lowell said her banana cream pie had no equal—— and my father loved her coconut cream pie. Often she would deliver a slice of pie to our house for Dad. He would smack his lips and say”luscious”! Her cream puffs were out standing and she taught me how to make them. At Christmas time she did lots of baking and made cookies and fudge. For years she would send my family homemade fudge——even when she was living at fair haven. She would send me many recipes when I was in Washington. My recipe box is filled with cards in her writing——-many of them very smudged from much use. Many of them were also shared from Aunt Jo and Joan.
When I was older and moved to Washingto, Auntie Fran would visit my family often. She made a quilt for my first child Megan. Her visits were very welcomed and the children loved her dearly. She played games with them——Uno, Skipbo, Rummy cub, and did jigsaw puzzles. One time we had a Shirley Temple movie marathon. She loved that—-especially Heidi. We did berry picking, swap meeting, picnicking, and long walks. She would send us Christmas packages every year and the children opened the packages eagerly. I would just savor the smell of Aunt Fran’s house from the box. It brought back memories.
As my Mother and Aunt Fran got older and could no longer travel, we would visit them often. Chelsea and Tristan came too and would go to band programs uptown with Auntie Fran as well as visiting the”farm”. Chelsea would fall in love with the kittens. Aunt Fran loved to display Chelsea’s hair and proudly proclaimed to her friends that it was natural curl and not a perm.
When Mom moved to the nursing home Clark and I would stay at Fair haven. This meant many visits with Aunt Fran. I enjoyed our chats and keeping up on all the news. Sitting in the chair next to her felt so comfy and warm. I enjoyed those visits and once again felt special and loved.
Auntie Fran was a very special person to all of us. We all loved her very much. Her legacy is the love she spread in our family. I have used her as a mentor in being a grandmother to my grand children. I hope I am successful. I named Megan after Aunt Fran —-Megan Francine and she named her daughter Everly Frances. This pleased me very much. I feel very fortunate and blessed to have had her in my life. I love you Auntie Fran!
Auntie Fran would attend all my band and choir and church programs and play performances. I would look for her in the audience. She managed to do this for all of us. At graduations ——-it would be tricky for her but she made it to everyone.
Auntie Fran was a wonderful baker——-my brother Lowell said her banana cream pie had no equal—— and my father loved her coconut cream pie. Often she would deliver a slice of pie to our house for Dad. He would smack his lips and say”luscious”! Her cream puffs were out standing and she taught me how to make them. At Christmas time she did lots of baking and made cookies and fudge. For years she would send my family homemade fudge——even when she was living at fair haven. She would send me many recipes when I was in Washington. My recipe box is filled with cards in her writing——-many of them very smudged from much use. Many of them were also shared from Aunt Jo and Joan.
When I was older and moved to Washingto, Auntie Fran would visit my family often. She made a quilt for my first child Megan. Her visits were very welcomed and the children loved her dearly. She played games with them——Uno, Skipbo, Rummy cub, and did jigsaw puzzles. One time we had a Shirley Temple movie marathon. She loved that—-especially Heidi. We did berry picking, swap meeting, picnicking, and long walks. She would send us Christmas packages every year and the children opened the packages eagerly. I would just savor the smell of Aunt Fran’s house from the box. It brought back memories.
As my Mother and Aunt Fran got older and could no longer travel, we would visit them often. Chelsea and Tristan came too and would go to band programs uptown with Auntie Fran as well as visiting the”farm”. Chelsea would fall in love with the kittens. Aunt Fran loved to display Chelsea’s hair and proudly proclaimed to her friends that it was natural curl and not a perm.
When Mom moved to the nursing home Clark and I would stay at Fair haven. This meant many visits with Aunt Fran. I enjoyed our chats and keeping up on all the news. Sitting in the chair next to her felt so comfy and warm. I enjoyed those visits and once again felt special and loved.
Auntie Fran was a very special person to all of us. We all loved her very much. Her legacy is the love she spread in our family. I have used her as a mentor in being a grandmother to my grand children. I hope I am successful. I named Megan after Aunt Fran —-Megan Francine and she named her daughter Everly Frances. This pleased me very much. I feel very fortunate and blessed to have had her in my life. I love you Auntie Fran!
A candle was lit by Janet Sharp
on December 17, 2017 8:54 AM
Message from Stan Verheul
December 16, 2017 9:19 PM
"Auntie Fran"
I always assumed her name was "Frances" until I researched her arrival in the Ellis Island archives for her 95th birthday and discovered her given name is "Francine." When I asked her about it, she said, "Oh Stan, everybody thought it was "Frances" and it didn't matter. I suspect there is more revealed in that response than we have time to consider right now.
"Auntie Fran" has left us...and she has left a mountain of love, a volume of memories, and a giant hole in our hearts. Especially, I think, for us, her nieces and nephews. She is a giant for the Verheul kids, and especially for me, born while my father was overseas in WWII. Uncle "R" was the man in my early life, and Aunt Fran was like a second mom. (When I was little, I used to wonder why a guy had only an initial for a name until I learned it was short for "Arie." I was, and still am, madly in love with Uncle R's 1932 Plymouth, which eventually became my grandpa's. Uncle "R" died when I was 5.)
Aunt Fran was so much a part of our life that I think we assumed she was part of our nuclear family, but lived with Grandpa and Grandma. She took trips with us; she was over for dinner every Sunday. Sundays really began with "coffee time" after church at Grandpa and Grandma's (in Dutch, of course). Aunt Fran always baked some cool stuff, and us kids were allowed a little coffee with our cream and sugar. Then it was dinner at our house (in English). If we were lucky (and we almost always were), the afternoon was spent at "the farm" (Uncle Warner and Aunt Joh's) or sometimes "the other farm" (Uncle Ed and Aunt Marie's). Otherwise, it was a long country ride. It's a good thing they made bench seats in cars those days. Our '49 Ford was overflowing. Mom, Dad, and Mona in the front seat. Lowell, Aunt Fran, and me in the back...with our rat terrier Pepper hanging out the back window from Aunt Fran's lap.
Cousin Roger and I are the same age, and were more like brothers growing up. I called him "Wowie" before I learned to pronounce my "r's". We each had our own moms (Aunt Joh and my mother, Jessie) but there was only one Aunt Fran, and we fought over her lap. I can still see her on the steps of the front porch at the East Third Street house, with "Wowie" on her lap, and me thinking "that should be me." My parents married in 1942, a hastened event because Dad was called up. It was a ceremony in Missouri, with only two friends as witnesses. By the time Lowell and Mona were born, I got it...but at first I would look at the simple b&w Kodak Brownie photo and ask, "why isn't Auntie Fran in the picture?"
Mom was from Denver. And yet Aunt Fran became very much a part of her siblings' lives. Mom and Dad's photo albums include photos with Aunt Fran and my Denver aunties and uncles. Because of the Denver connection, I may be the only nephew who got to take long road trips with Aunt Fran and "the girls", as they called themselves. Aunt Irene suffered from allergies and asthma, and she would spend summers in Denver where the climate was kinder to her. Aunt Fran drove her there, and I sometimes went along; mom had four siblings there and I bounced around from one cousin's house to another. Aunt Fran had no fear about driving that distance--first in the sky-blue '54 Chevy and later the 2-tone '57. We did it in a day, and I don't remember anyone else helping with the driving. Long before daybreak, she would pick me up, and then we would go get the others. It felt like some really clandestine mission, going from place to place and waiting quietly for another cohort to join us. I remember Rachel Ryken, Hilda Spoelstra, Aunt Irene, of course...and occasionally someone else. This was before the days of cell phones and interstates...we sailed through the night on 2-lane roads, hardly meeting another car. "The girls" went on to their Colorado "vacation" and my parents retrieved me later in the summer. As I reflect on it now, it must have been a real pain in the rear to drag this snot-nosed kid along, but they made me feel like I was really somebody. Aunt Fran always made you feel like you were somebody.
Once we left college, Lowell, Mona and I found ourselves spread through the country. But Aunt Fran remained a part of our lives. We saw her, of course, when we visited Pella. But she also visited us--all three of us. Our children, Robin, Leslie, and Elizabeth came to know her well, and loved to see her come. It meant adventures were going to happen, and extra love in the house. Our older grandchildren knew her as well; although she saw photos of Leslie's two kids, she did not get to meet them in person. They were born after my parents were gone, and trips to Pella became infrequent.
I'm sure we all have our quirky "Auntie Fran" stories. I remember when she learned to drive, about the same time as my mom, in the mid-50's. Bless ever-patient Uncle Warner for teaching them on little "2-tracks" carved out of the pastures. It meant a whole new freedom for Aunt Fran, and she was fearless. It was painful, later, to visit her and my mom, who lived in adjacent rooms at Fair Haven East, and see Aunt Fran's white Olds and mom's blue Sable in the parking lot, barely used anymore. Initially, Aunt Fran had challenges with backing out of the narrow driveway at the East Third Street house. Grandpa didn't trust that, so he cut out a new door at the front of the garage so she could drive in from the street and out through the alley!
When Aunt Fran spoke, it was never hard to hear her. Especially on the phone, she spoke as though she had to personally cover the distance between us. When they moved to the house on Columbus Street, a block from my parents, us kids would laughingly say that Aunt Fran only needed the phone to let us know she was calling--after that we could hear her without it. It was the original speaker-phone; everybody in the room could hear the conversation. After Uncle Warner's untimely leaving us, Aunt Fran and Aunt Joh became a traveling duo. When we were living in Los Angeles, my sister Mona was in Seattle, and cousin Roger was in Fresno. The sisters would fly to Seattle, then Amtrak it to Fresno and down to L.A. One "Auntie Fran" legend in our family was the time Judy took the two of them to the Beverly Hills mall (trust me, we did not live there!) and they were sitting in a coffee shop when Judy said, "Don't look now, but Tony Curtis (a well-known movie star) is sitting at the next table." Of course they both looked! And Aunt Fran, in her typically loud voice, said, "Tony Curtis? Never heard of him!" Bless her, she treated all of us like movie stars, but was not impressed with celebrities.
I've shared too long. I wrote even more memories. Memories are one more of her precious gifts to us, sharpening not only our relationship with her, but with each other, and those who have gone before us. Until recently, when I called, she would ask not only about each of our girls, but knew our grandkids by name. Then came that time when, every few minutes she would ask me, "now where are you living again?" And then, "Who are you again?" And, finally, "I don't know you" and she would hang up. Thanks, dear Auntie Fran, for this chance to remember again. We love you. We miss you.
I always assumed her name was "Frances" until I researched her arrival in the Ellis Island archives for her 95th birthday and discovered her given name is "Francine." When I asked her about it, she said, "Oh Stan, everybody thought it was "Frances" and it didn't matter. I suspect there is more revealed in that response than we have time to consider right now.
"Auntie Fran" has left us...and she has left a mountain of love, a volume of memories, and a giant hole in our hearts. Especially, I think, for us, her nieces and nephews. She is a giant for the Verheul kids, and especially for me, born while my father was overseas in WWII. Uncle "R" was the man in my early life, and Aunt Fran was like a second mom. (When I was little, I used to wonder why a guy had only an initial for a name until I learned it was short for "Arie." I was, and still am, madly in love with Uncle R's 1932 Plymouth, which eventually became my grandpa's. Uncle "R" died when I was 5.)
Aunt Fran was so much a part of our life that I think we assumed she was part of our nuclear family, but lived with Grandpa and Grandma. She took trips with us; she was over for dinner every Sunday. Sundays really began with "coffee time" after church at Grandpa and Grandma's (in Dutch, of course). Aunt Fran always baked some cool stuff, and us kids were allowed a little coffee with our cream and sugar. Then it was dinner at our house (in English). If we were lucky (and we almost always were), the afternoon was spent at "the farm" (Uncle Warner and Aunt Joh's) or sometimes "the other farm" (Uncle Ed and Aunt Marie's). Otherwise, it was a long country ride. It's a good thing they made bench seats in cars those days. Our '49 Ford was overflowing. Mom, Dad, and Mona in the front seat. Lowell, Aunt Fran, and me in the back...with our rat terrier Pepper hanging out the back window from Aunt Fran's lap.
Cousin Roger and I are the same age, and were more like brothers growing up. I called him "Wowie" before I learned to pronounce my "r's". We each had our own moms (Aunt Joh and my mother, Jessie) but there was only one Aunt Fran, and we fought over her lap. I can still see her on the steps of the front porch at the East Third Street house, with "Wowie" on her lap, and me thinking "that should be me." My parents married in 1942, a hastened event because Dad was called up. It was a ceremony in Missouri, with only two friends as witnesses. By the time Lowell and Mona were born, I got it...but at first I would look at the simple b&w Kodak Brownie photo and ask, "why isn't Auntie Fran in the picture?"
Mom was from Denver. And yet Aunt Fran became very much a part of her siblings' lives. Mom and Dad's photo albums include photos with Aunt Fran and my Denver aunties and uncles. Because of the Denver connection, I may be the only nephew who got to take long road trips with Aunt Fran and "the girls", as they called themselves. Aunt Irene suffered from allergies and asthma, and she would spend summers in Denver where the climate was kinder to her. Aunt Fran drove her there, and I sometimes went along; mom had four siblings there and I bounced around from one cousin's house to another. Aunt Fran had no fear about driving that distance--first in the sky-blue '54 Chevy and later the 2-tone '57. We did it in a day, and I don't remember anyone else helping with the driving. Long before daybreak, she would pick me up, and then we would go get the others. It felt like some really clandestine mission, going from place to place and waiting quietly for another cohort to join us. I remember Rachel Ryken, Hilda Spoelstra, Aunt Irene, of course...and occasionally someone else. This was before the days of cell phones and interstates...we sailed through the night on 2-lane roads, hardly meeting another car. "The girls" went on to their Colorado "vacation" and my parents retrieved me later in the summer. As I reflect on it now, it must have been a real pain in the rear to drag this snot-nosed kid along, but they made me feel like I was really somebody. Aunt Fran always made you feel like you were somebody.
Once we left college, Lowell, Mona and I found ourselves spread through the country. But Aunt Fran remained a part of our lives. We saw her, of course, when we visited Pella. But she also visited us--all three of us. Our children, Robin, Leslie, and Elizabeth came to know her well, and loved to see her come. It meant adventures were going to happen, and extra love in the house. Our older grandchildren knew her as well; although she saw photos of Leslie's two kids, she did not get to meet them in person. They were born after my parents were gone, and trips to Pella became infrequent.
I'm sure we all have our quirky "Auntie Fran" stories. I remember when she learned to drive, about the same time as my mom, in the mid-50's. Bless ever-patient Uncle Warner for teaching them on little "2-tracks" carved out of the pastures. It meant a whole new freedom for Aunt Fran, and she was fearless. It was painful, later, to visit her and my mom, who lived in adjacent rooms at Fair Haven East, and see Aunt Fran's white Olds and mom's blue Sable in the parking lot, barely used anymore. Initially, Aunt Fran had challenges with backing out of the narrow driveway at the East Third Street house. Grandpa didn't trust that, so he cut out a new door at the front of the garage so she could drive in from the street and out through the alley!
When Aunt Fran spoke, it was never hard to hear her. Especially on the phone, she spoke as though she had to personally cover the distance between us. When they moved to the house on Columbus Street, a block from my parents, us kids would laughingly say that Aunt Fran only needed the phone to let us know she was calling--after that we could hear her without it. It was the original speaker-phone; everybody in the room could hear the conversation. After Uncle Warner's untimely leaving us, Aunt Fran and Aunt Joh became a traveling duo. When we were living in Los Angeles, my sister Mona was in Seattle, and cousin Roger was in Fresno. The sisters would fly to Seattle, then Amtrak it to Fresno and down to L.A. One "Auntie Fran" legend in our family was the time Judy took the two of them to the Beverly Hills mall (trust me, we did not live there!) and they were sitting in a coffee shop when Judy said, "Don't look now, but Tony Curtis (a well-known movie star) is sitting at the next table." Of course they both looked! And Aunt Fran, in her typically loud voice, said, "Tony Curtis? Never heard of him!" Bless her, she treated all of us like movie stars, but was not impressed with celebrities.
I've shared too long. I wrote even more memories. Memories are one more of her precious gifts to us, sharpening not only our relationship with her, but with each other, and those who have gone before us. Until recently, when I called, she would ask not only about each of our girls, but knew our grandkids by name. Then came that time when, every few minutes she would ask me, "now where are you living again?" And then, "Who are you again?" And, finally, "I don't know you" and she would hang up. Thanks, dear Auntie Fran, for this chance to remember again. We love you. We miss you.
Message from Mona VerHeul Vellema
December 17, 2017 3:53 PM
Message from Lowell VerHeul
December 17, 2017 9:29 AM
Lots of vivid recollections, some of which, such as the trips to Denver, were unknown to me, being of a younger generation. The driving stories sparked new memories. It was Fran who spent most of the time teaching me how to drive. My father was not patient enough and too busy. I also appreciated the fact that she was quite indulgent. Fran would be busy talking and then suddenly, "Oops, you're in the wrong lane."
Message from Mona Ver Heul Vellema
December 17, 2017 3:55 PM
How funny! I have some memories about driving too!
Message from Stan Verheul
December 17, 2017 3:52 PM
On one of my trips to pick Aunt Fran and Aunt Joh up from Union Station, my aging 1980 Honda Accord hatchback was rear-ended on the 110 freeway. Although it was totaled, it was driveable from the scene, and I knew I needed to get there to the station. In addition to caving in the back, one of the rear wheels was bent. I met them at the train, carried their luggage to the car, and stuffed it over the back seat because I could not open the hatch. The car looked like and was a wreck. They said not a word--like, I guess this is how Stan and Judy live. I took surface streets back because I couldn't go more that 25 miles an hour and the bent rim made the car jump like a frog. Still not a word about the car. They chattered and asked questions like this was all normal.
Message from Lowell VerHeul
December 16, 2017 1:23 PM
With a life spanning over a hundred years, there are probably memories of many different "Aunt Frans" by several generations of nieces and nephews. All of them, I am sure, have images of a gregarious and affectionate aunt.
The Aunt Fran most vivid in my memories is from my childhood in the '50s and '60s. Present at every family get-together, she was energetic and talkative, nearly always in good spirits, though not what I would call "jovial." On the surface, she was not emotionally expressive, but when my father teased her, she could get quite worked up, quite defensive. It was not a gentle, soft demeanor, but rather her affection was shown in her immediate engagement with you. As a niece of mine noted, she seemed like a "big teddy bear."
Fran had a characteristic Dutch bluntness. I especially remember one time right after my grandmother died. Grandmother Lyntje was 98 and Fran, who lived with her parents, had faithfully cared for her in her final years. My grandfather, who was 10 years younger than my grandmother, was still living. Grandfather Case was rather aloof. Indeed, I was always warned that I had temperamental affinities with my grandfather: "Don't grow up to be like your grandfather!" Well, I remember distinctly how Fran, in our kitchen, announced quite emphatically that "I'm not going to care for him the way I did my mom." That was understandable; being a caretaker can be very draining. But still it was stark in its bluntness. Of course, she did care for him, and he died a year later.
Fran was very hard working. She never shrank from pitching in. She often noted that in her early years of work at the Rolscreen Company, she was eager to go to work. She enjoyed the company of fellow workers and the satisfaction of being productive. However, the later years were a different story. Fran later told me how she was so glad to be able to retire early, that she was grateful to my father for helping her arrange her retirement. After retirement, she was still active, for a long time, for example, in the garden she and her parents had maintained. I remember too how when she visited me she decided to do some house cleaning. "It feels so good," she said, "when you have gotten some work done." In addition to having a strong work ethic, she was never self-indulgent. She lived frugally, an exemplary Dutch characteristic ("Waste not; want not").
She endured many bad times. "Life for me ain't been no crystal stair./ It's had tacks in it./ And splinters." A period following her severing of fingers at work was especially traumatic. She sat at many deathbeds. Earlier, there were cousins Geneva and Emily. Especially wrenching was her dear sister Johanna's Alzheimer's illness. She was sitting with me in the hospital room at the moment my father died. In her final years she lamented the continual passing of friends, one of the bitter fruits of living a long life. In her final years, bit by bit, we lost her as her faculties diminished.
The vital, engaging Aunt Fran will be remembered by several generations.
The Aunt Fran most vivid in my memories is from my childhood in the '50s and '60s. Present at every family get-together, she was energetic and talkative, nearly always in good spirits, though not what I would call "jovial." On the surface, she was not emotionally expressive, but when my father teased her, she could get quite worked up, quite defensive. It was not a gentle, soft demeanor, but rather her affection was shown in her immediate engagement with you. As a niece of mine noted, she seemed like a "big teddy bear."
Fran had a characteristic Dutch bluntness. I especially remember one time right after my grandmother died. Grandmother Lyntje was 98 and Fran, who lived with her parents, had faithfully cared for her in her final years. My grandfather, who was 10 years younger than my grandmother, was still living. Grandfather Case was rather aloof. Indeed, I was always warned that I had temperamental affinities with my grandfather: "Don't grow up to be like your grandfather!" Well, I remember distinctly how Fran, in our kitchen, announced quite emphatically that "I'm not going to care for him the way I did my mom." That was understandable; being a caretaker can be very draining. But still it was stark in its bluntness. Of course, she did care for him, and he died a year later.
Fran was very hard working. She never shrank from pitching in. She often noted that in her early years of work at the Rolscreen Company, she was eager to go to work. She enjoyed the company of fellow workers and the satisfaction of being productive. However, the later years were a different story. Fran later told me how she was so glad to be able to retire early, that she was grateful to my father for helping her arrange her retirement. After retirement, she was still active, for a long time, for example, in the garden she and her parents had maintained. I remember too how when she visited me she decided to do some house cleaning. "It feels so good," she said, "when you have gotten some work done." In addition to having a strong work ethic, she was never self-indulgent. She lived frugally, an exemplary Dutch characteristic ("Waste not; want not").
She endured many bad times. "Life for me ain't been no crystal stair./ It's had tacks in it./ And splinters." A period following her severing of fingers at work was especially traumatic. She sat at many deathbeds. Earlier, there were cousins Geneva and Emily. Especially wrenching was her dear sister Johanna's Alzheimer's illness. She was sitting with me in the hospital room at the moment my father died. In her final years she lamented the continual passing of friends, one of the bitter fruits of living a long life. In her final years, bit by bit, we lost her as her faculties diminished.
The vital, engaging Aunt Fran will be remembered by several generations.
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