How My Connection with Family Provides Comfort In Uncertain Times

By Annie Mark-Westfall — LETTERS FROM BERLIN

After writing last month’s column, I really did book a quick trip to visit Grandma Bea. I traveled during the week to ensure my husband would be able to rely on daycare to provide him some respite from the round-the-clock attention that our children require. (They are 2 and 4 years old and still do not sleep through the night — send help.) Of course, because I voiced that thought aloud, the children became sick the day I left, and spent no time in daycare. (Sorry, Sweetie.)

Meanwhile in New York, I had one of the most glorious and fulfilling weeks of my life. I woke at 5:30 am, spent my mornings at the office before Grandma woke up, and the rest of the day with her. We ate fried oysters and matzo ball soup at the great diners across Westchester County; and in the evenings, we pored over the giant manila folder full of photos labeled “pre-war.” I scribbled names on the backs of the photos and stories into my journal. Grandma’s son, my uncle, came over and helped me fill in gaps and correct any errors. I went to Michael’s craft store, bought a giant scrapbook and an overabundance of supplies, and spent evenings and mornings creating a narrative among the photos, and sticking them in the album. This photo book bookended my days with Grandma.