Judith Morris

Judith & Martha My dear friend Judith died on February 24, 2013 at her home in Georgetown, surrounded by family and friends. After 42 years of friendship, it’s hard to imagine life without her. Our friendship began when we were expecting our first babies, Courtney and Lilli. Our husbands were working long hours and we had little extended-family support. Judith’s mother had died long before and my mother was far away in Texas.  Together we figured out how to raise our children, always sharing our favorite music, books, recipes and travels. Ten years ago Judith ask me to help her write down her remarkable life story, so that her grandchildren would have a record of how she survived the Holocaust hidden in a Catholic orphanage in Brussels. How lucky Courtney’s children are to have her example before them.  Judith has always been a role model to my children, too, as you can see from the tributes below that they sent her in her final week. She and I were so proud of how all four of our offspring have turned out.  I will continue to imagine Judith listening when I play the piano. When she joined me in singing, yes singing, a Chopin Nocturne two weeks ago in the hospital in Palm Beach, I knew we had found a perfect way to celebrate our very precious friendship.

Dearest Judith, You’ve always been such an inspiration to me. You are my other mother, my city mother. I loved coming to Georgetown to visit you and Stan and Courtney so much in my early years. Dance classes, Little Folks School, and falling asleep to the sounds of the city are some of my fondest memories. When I think of those early years, I remember flying kites on the mall, picnics with little cheeses and salamis, blasting broadway musicals like Annie in your little brown car and of course Montrose park where we always had fun. You taught me my first french words, how to walk a dog, and how to love living where you could walk everywhere. I still live in a city with brick sidewalks today and walk to the grocery store, partially because of you.  Later, when I learned more about your early life and after your first battle with cancer, I began to realize how much you had gone through in your life. I realized what an amazing journey of survival you’d had.  You have always been an inspiration through whatever tough times I’ve had in my life.  I’ll always appreciate you coming up to Cambridge to see me after my own battle with cancer.  You understood so much. When I became a mother myself, I  found a new appreciation for the relationship that you and my mother had raising small children together and that experience has definitely inspired me to seek out similar relationships of my own because it was and always has been such a formative factor in my life. I always brag about how I was really so luck to have 2 mothers growing up.  I admire you for creating a rich and happy single life which I know was not always easy. And because of you, I always try to keep a smile on my face in the grocery store….just in case I should be so lucky to end up like you and Marvin.  Judith, I’m so happy that you are at home now, listening to city noises, your grand children, music, love and laughter. I love you so much and wish you peace.  Lilli

Judith – As does Lilli, I too claim you as a second mom. Since I came along two-and-a-half years after Lilli and Courtney, you were there from Day One for me. I fondly remember trips across the Potomac to exotic Georgetown and my first introduction to city living. There was little Tai-Tai (I hope I have that name right), a pasta machine, lots of books, and two older girls who treated me as their mascot. As I grew older, I began to associate your home with Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, with delectable smells, warm fires, an addictive chess machine, and sophisticated conversation. I’m attaching photos from both eras that include Courtney and me…perhaps you took them. I still remember fondly your 60th birthday party cruise down the Potomac River on a perfect May evening, and seeing you again in Cambridge during Lilli’s darkest hours. You were instrumental in helping all of us as we built our family into what it is today, and we will never forget you. Love, David.

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