top of page
If you have a story that you would like to share,
please send it to us via our "contact" page.

Stories about Iris

A Story by Iris 
 

 

 

Memoirs of my niece: Iris is my first niece. Iris was at my wedding over 61 years ago when she and her cousin Paula were the cutest ones there, I was always in awe of all the things she accomplished, including ballet and her travels. I had the chance to visit her at the monastery where we were welcomed with tea -- me and her mom and dad. She has a most interesting life. It is very hard, and I don't know what to say. I send all my love!

Mel Brenner

 

Cousin #1: I am number 6, and Iris is number 1. My grandfather, Poppy Morris, Iris's dad's father, never called us by name, but rather by number., and usually "schmoe" preceding it! Although as an adult, I rarely had the privilege of seeing Iris, we were all together at my mom and Aunt Yetta's unveiling, and that meant so much to all of us that she was able to attend. My favorite photo is of the 8 of us, I always looked up to my "big" cousin Iris because she did and went where her heart called -- studying in Paris, dancing, becoming a Buddhist and living in a monastery. When I look at the pictures of Iris, I see my Aunt Selma, and I see the love and caring my aunt and uncle have for family and friends manifest in the way Iris lived her life.

Faye Brenner

 

A poem by Iris: WHEN

 

When was it that I began to feel the blood tie that binds us together?

 

When did I begin to look at you and see us as a continuum in time?

 

When did I begin to notice your grey hair and thin skin as a clock that would cease to tick?

 

When did I begin to plan our time together with your tired bones in mind?

 

When did I begin to call you on the phone to make sure you arrived home safe - just like you used to phone me?

 

When did the persistent symphony of your love begin to overpower the mournful dirge of the past?

 

When did I begin to see your vulnerability? To fully grasp that there will be a time when I will no longer be able to hear your voice.

 

When did the thought of your passing from this earth begin to cause my heart to weep?

bottom of page