Passages: Feather
“My little dog – a heartbeat at my feet.”
~Edith Wharton
We honor and mourn the inestimable loss of a noble and selfless aesthete, Feather, a quiet friend, who left this life a little ahead of those who loved her. Khalil Gibran once remarked that “…love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” My very dearest friends, my heart breaks for you.























































































































































Having Feather as a family member for nine years was like having the best Christmas gift ever. She was smart, funny and, most of all, endlessly optimistic. She greeted each day anticipating that something great could happen at any moment: a walk, a car ride, a bite of whatever mom or dad was eating. Thanks for remembering our girl.