I am posting this because people have asked me to. Emily Rose Marcus was born on December 10, 1969, in Alta Bates Hospital in Berkeley. It was a forceps delivery, and she came out with bruises on her face, yet she lived her life as a woman who prized beauty—in fashion, her own sense of style, furniture, art. Following her beloved uncle Dr. William E. Bernstein, she chose a death with dignity, and died on January 31, 2023, in her apartment in Oakland, where she had lived since 2007, after more than two years fighting against a terminal diagnosis of appendiceal cancer she had received in September 2020. Our hearts are broken.
What a beauty. She was right about her guesstimate that she would reliably clean up nice. Detective comics achieved adulting in the ofttimes scuppered attention of their readers under the feminine editorship of a woman whose name esacapes me. A real comme se comme ca or whatever, suffice me to say reliable made titles that rhymed with my desire to not adhere to preferences but to pretend i have no preferences. House hold design is different than any other, kick down and scatter all the rest the way that you hang pictures and accomodate the cat's desire for every door to stay open are train tracks to the highest thoughts. What really are the furthest horizontally you can image your hundred fifty Dunbar of people maybe forgetting their aches and pains and overcoming the inattention of knowing too well you are not everybody's cup of tea. Thank you for what must be overexposed images for you. Pierro del Francesco. Damn right hours in the company of that painter,. Old whattsisname,. Hopper. Faithful paintings to faulty eyes for our limited american alpphabet of ideas. Our separate but equalls and other machines that break down right where we wished them to please 90 percent of evrybody. Only coffee worked.
Last month I lost my youngest, Ginger. I welcome you to the club nobody wants to join. Both joyful memories and breath-stopping pain still strike when they will, but the former gain a little more strength and frequency for me, only six weeks into this journey. It hasn’t “gotten better” so much as I have, with practice, become a tiny bit better at it. Good luck and good memories to all who loved her.
What a beauty. She was right about her guesstimate that she would reliably clean up nice. Detective comics achieved adulting in the ofttimes scuppered attention of their readers under the feminine editorship of a woman whose name esacapes me. A real comme se comme ca or whatever, suffice me to say reliable made titles that rhymed with my desire to not adhere to preferences but to pretend i have no preferences. House hold design is different than any other, kick down and scatter all the rest the way that you hang pictures and accomodate the cat's desire for every door to stay open are train tracks to the highest thoughts. What really are the furthest horizontally you can image your hundred fifty Dunbar of people maybe forgetting their aches and pains and overcoming the inattention of knowing too well you are not everybody's cup of tea. Thank you for what must be overexposed images for you. Pierro del Francesco. Damn right hours in the company of that painter,. Old whattsisname,. Hopper. Faithful paintings to faulty eyes for our limited american alpphabet of ideas. Our separate but equalls and other machines that break down right where we wished them to please 90 percent of evrybody. Only coffee worked.
May the road rise up to meet you Em…
Sincere Condolences on your loss.
Sending love.
I can’t imagine having a child, let alone losing one. May you and your family have peace.
I am so sorry. What a beautiful person.
I loved reading about her. Thank you!
I’m sorry for your loss. 💙
S o sorry for m this huge loss
So sad to read this. Take care Greil.
We think of her often with love.
She sounds like a lovely person who left the world a better place.
Ah, I know Lisa from Temple Sinai Preschool. Light attracts light. May Emily’s memory continue to bless all.
Last month I lost my youngest, Ginger. I welcome you to the club nobody wants to join. Both joyful memories and breath-stopping pain still strike when they will, but the former gain a little more strength and frequency for me, only six weeks into this journey. It hasn’t “gotten better” so much as I have, with practice, become a tiny bit better at it. Good luck and good memories to all who loved her.
Thank you for sharing.
I am very sorry for your loss. This is so beautifully written, may her memory always be a blessing.🕊️