Boston Francers Lose

My poor cousin Chuck in Boston just wrote to me that his wife passed away in her sleep a year ago. We haven't visited Boston in a few years and I wish we had; I feel terrible. Chuck, really Charles--he hasn't used the name Chuck since he grew up--used to visit us in Philly; he's my age and I think his wife Marilyn was a couple of years younger. I understand to a thirty-year-old, at fifty-eight, we're ancient, but we don't feel over the hill, just middle-aged and ready to enjoy life. Marilyn was a lovely young woman still grieving over the loss of their daughter; she never had a chance. She didn't even get to see their son get married this year. I'm so sorry for her, Chuck, and their son. They've been through too much.
A whole branch of my family lives in the Boston area; they used to come down here to Philly in dribs and drabs for Passover or to Atlantic City in the summer. They're exactly like our Philly Warshaws, but the older generation is a little softer. A couple of cousins have tattoos; another does research in the Artic when he isn't teaching school. They appear to be as wacky as we are. The Boston family is a few years younger in general than the Phillies so we still have the older generation to savor. We fell in love with them all over our last two visits.
Brian hopefully will go up to Boston with us this spring, and I hope we'll get to meet Chuck's son and new daughter-in-law. I'm going to miss Marilyn. I miss her now and I'm just so sorry. Truly, I'm sitting here shocked and upset. I'm just getting to an age where my generation is dying, but I'm not inured to it; I can't accept it easily.