Murray Milton Friedman (1922-2009)
My father, Murray, past away earlier today. I wish I knew exactly what happened, however I learned of his death second hand (by way of my wife, who received an email from my mother), and it seems that no one is yet certain exactly how he died. The fact that my entire immediate family still lives in New York, while I'm in California certainly added to the confusion. He's been in poor/declining health for at least the past year. He was diagnosed with advanced stage Alzheimer's disease about two years ago, and he had been living in a nursing home nearly as long. As a result, he really didn't have any memory of me (or much else from the past 30 years) any longer. The last time that I saw him in relatively good health and spirits was back in June of 2004 at my sister's wedding.
He had a long, good life. Living 87 years is certainly nothing to sneeze at. He fought in the second World War, and never had the opportunity to go to college. He raised three children, and put them through college on a NYC civil servant's salary (where he worked long hours for nearly 20 years, and retired just in the past decade). He met David for the first (and sadly, only) time back in 2004, but I could still tell how happy it made him to have a grandchild.
I'd love to come up with something profound or witty, but words are failing me right now. I loved him.