My wife Beth has been magnificent. She always rearranged her schedule to attend doctor visits and helped us negotiate difficult medical decisions. Her humor and reassurance were an endless source of strength for my mother and continues to be for the rest of the family. And I am happy to state the she and my mother adored one another. I can also safely say that without Beth quietly shoring me up through the hardest times, I might be looking down on the proceedings today along with my mother.
As you may know, Fanny took great care of sick friends and there have been many, many sick friends over the years. I have childhood memories of her making little sandwiches and containers of soup to take to someone in the hospital. If a friend was ill at home, a small shopping bag would appear with something delicious, an encouraging note or something fun to read. She took friends to the doctor and to treatments and liberally dispensed good cheer and encouragement. Perhaps she got this from her mother, who was a nurse during the First World War, but it came to her as naturally as breathing.
When it came to be Fanny’s turn, her friends did not forget those kindnesses. She was showered with flowers and sweets, caviar and lobster, books and clothes and most importantly letters, telephone calls and visits. All of you should know how much it lifted her spirits and how grateful she was for your thoughtfulness.
A friend of hers recently said that “She danced through life” and I thought what a wonderful image to have of her. She kept dancing despite her fair share of heartbreak, loss and suffering. But she always knew how fortunate she was and what a marvelous life she had and not to have kept dancing would have been to give in, and worse, it would have been a bore.
There is one little story I would like to tell that proves to me that she has gone on dancing after life as well. I hope you don’t find it too morbid. Fanny would have loved it. It was always her wish to be cremated and buried in the family plot in Bedford, New York. After she died, we made the arrangements with a small, family-owned funeral home near New York Hospital. The man we spoke with was very pleasant and straightforward and not the least bit unctuous.
He asked whether he should mail us the ashes or whether we would like to come around to pick them up. I thought for a moment how delighted Mum would have been to be sent through the mail. Upon reflection, I decided we better not risk it so I said I would come pick her up.A few days went by and I went back and was presented with a very attractive shopping bag containing her ashes. Not wanting to be rude by looking inside to verify the contents, I thanked the man and left.

Fanny Brennan, Solo, hand-crafted lithograph. Paper size: 6 x 7 inches.
Image size: 2 x 2.5 inches. Signed and numbered in pencil.