… inadequate words. Jen, I can’t imagine that we are in a world without your warmth, kindness, courage, humor and the familiar sound of your laughter. From the time we started working side by side when you were 25 and I was 35, we gradually discovered first that we were both left handed, that we shared a birthday, and that our middle names were both Lynn. Back then we were pushing 9 magazines through the process with our 2 person art department. That led to a certain amount of stress, but you were always cool as a cucumber. You would announce “uh oh, Barb’s fingers are on her brow” as a bit of our unspoken shorthand. When a Yiddish word would slip into a conversation you turned it into my Yiddish word of the day lesson.

Working hard was always punctuated with laughter, as we worked together through the twists and turns of 4 owners, 4 buildings and countless reshuffling of staff and office space. During the next 23 years there were so many life milestones both joyous and sorrowful, and you were always there to help put them in perspective. The paper thin office walls meant that when I would get off of the phone after difficult calls with my mother’s caregivers or with a hospital in Pittsburgh, you would appear in my doorway asking how I was. Always ready with a kind word (okay who are we kidding—it was never just one word) no matter what the subject, serious or silly, you were always there for others. You loved to talk and engage with people, and I certainly did my best to hold up my end!

Looking through pictures, taken by our friend and photographer extraordinaire Jennifer Berry, brought back memories. I remembered what we might have been laughing at in the holiday party picture after looking through my own camera roll as well and saw the 30 or so pics of you and our coworkers laughing and making funny faces. That’s what I got for leaving my phone on the table while I went to the restroom and I can just picture you passing it around in those 2 minutes for many silly selfies. I almost didn’t go to the party that night because of a family emergency, but that moment of shared laughter is something I’ll always treasure, as I will your memory and kind friendship.

Jen, I’m so sorry that I didn’t know that you were sick. From reading Stephen’s words, shared with beautiful photographs, I know that you were so brave through pain that I wish you never had to endure. Please know that your warmth, your hugs, laughter and friendship will be in my heart forever. I know there are so many people whose lives you touched also keeping your memory alive in their hearts as well. In Judaism, we say “May her memory be a blessing” and we believe that one’s memory is kept alive as long as it is kept in the hearts of those left behind. We all know that your memory will continue to burn brightly. Love you Jen, I’m imagining one of your great hugs.

Sincerest condolences from Joe, Laurel and I to Stephen, John & Carol, Beth, Johnny, Lisa and Christopher and family. May her memory be a blessing.

[Submitted by Barbara Sutliff]

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