Once again, as has been the case for the past three years, today I celebrate my birthday and grieve the phone call I will not receive.

“Beware the Ides of March,” as the saying goes. Although it may be true in my case, nothing could have been further from the truth for Sara Kaufman, also born on this date.  Sara was always filled with ideas, concepts and thoughts which spilled out of her so fast, you soon realized she was thinking faster than anyone could possibly talk. Sara became involved in whatever caught her attention, including politics.

Over the years, as she grew up and I grew old(er), one gift I could always look forward to on our shared birthday was her bright, cheerful mile-a-minute phone call. She never forgot over these many years, and I never took for granted the joy I felt when she called.

Three years ago, we lost Sara in a senseless automobile accident, caused by someone behind her paying more attention to a cell phone call than to driving their car. I am saddened by the loss of a force of nature who I know was on her way to making a big difference in many lives as she worked towards entering public life. With the arrival of each anniversary of her passing, once more I grieve for Sara’s friends and family members.  I scarcely know how I will be able to get through this day without our traditional birthday phone call filled with the life, love and Saraisms that tripped off her tongue, making me smile no matter what else was going on in my life.

Please, no matter how very busy you are (and I do know that we are busy), don’t talk on the cell phone while driving. Trust me. It’s not worth the pain you may cause.

By the way, this column is named after an old Hall and Oates song for a particular reason. That is because of a ray of sunshine coming through the clouds to this loving family.  Sara’s baby sister Daryl is expecting her second child.

Somewhere, Sara smiles.

 

Gary Barg
Editor-in-Chief
gary@caregiver.com