Ella Gould

Dear Asher,

I grant you blessings in your first year of marriage. She seems to be a good girl and I

wish you two a happy marriage. Other than offering my congratulations on your wedding, I have

written to tell you of some news. As you know your father would not allow your mother to

attend the ceremony, this greatly upset her. She had been very uncomfortable cutting you out, but

to not go to her only child’s wedding took a toll on her. Your sweet mother went into a

depressive state, nearly identical to when her brother passed. I tried to tell her all about the

ceremony to possibly ease her disappointment. I even had a picture of you and your bride, but

your father did not take this well. He promptly made me leave and told me if I spoke your name

to her again he would stop speaking to me. About a month after the wedding your mother passed

in a car accident. They believe she was driving intoxicated when she lost control and crashed

into a parked car. I know this happened quite a while ago. Had anyone known your father hadn’t

contacted you, Jacob, the Rebbe, or I would have been much faster to write.

I am so sorry Asher. We all thought with time your father would come around and

attempt to reconnect. You know best how tormented your mother was by the rift in you and your

father’s relationship. The crucifixions showed just how well you knew. Her funeral was brief and

she was buried right next to her brother. Everyone there was horrified that you weren’t there.

None of us imagined that it was possibly due to the fact your father hadn’t called. No one

bothered to send their condolences because they thought you didn’t have the decency to say

goodbye to her. I now know this is not the case. I had your father over for dinner with the family,

when he saw the family portrait and became agitated. I tried to console him by disregarding you,
telling him you weren’t worth his anger if you couldn’t be bothered to bid your mother farewell.

That is when he said you didn’t know. I was in shock. That was this evening, your father quickly

left after I shouted at him for stealing your goodbye from you. I immediately sat down to write

you. I would have called, but it is too hard. I may have come to your wedding and I do feel truly

terrible about the circumstances I’m writing this letter under, your painting is still a crossed line.

I nor my family hold the grudge that your father does, but it will be awhile before you are

completely forgiven.

Well I don’t think I can continue to write about this horrible scenario. I will give you

update on these old streets you once occupied. Yudel Krinsky’s daughter has entered her first

year of school. His little boy is quite cute and loves to wander the store, picking up supplies and

then putting somewhere entirely wrong. Jacob Khan has been doing very well, he now resides in

Provincetown permanently. After Anna passed her gallery was inherited by her nephew, I

occasionally stop by to see if he maintains the grand gallery she created. I know you may be

surprised I have been keeping up with some of your old friends, but I felt like someone needed to

be able to update you on them every once in a while. As for myself, the store is doing better than

I could ever hope. We moved houses recently, with your name so big now, the old house sold at

a very nice price. The fact that it was your former studio was a great selling point for me. I will

never sell the family portrait though, it means too much. I know how shocking, your money

loving uncle not selling a very valuable original Lev work.

My final update will be on your father. I know you never wished for the outcome that

came from the crucifixions. He is doing very poorly Asher. He is resentful, holding on to

grudges with all of the little energy he has. I am sure he will follow your mother shortly. I know
this is very morbid, but he is falling down a slippery slope. It is a tragedy how early in their lives

they were struck with misfortune. Your father has become distant from the whole community.

He no longer works and to get him to attend dinner tonight was a struggle. He rarely comes to

the synagogue anymore. You may receive another letter like this before your first wedding

anniversary if things don’t improve soon. I must wrap up this letter now. I’m pained by this

whole situation and I can’t even imagine how you must feel reading this. I will try my absolute

best to send some things your mother left for you after she passed. It will depend on whether or

not I can get the stuff out without your father noticing. It is just a few things your mother

intended for you to have such as her old desk. I’ll also be sending the wedding gift she couldn’t

manage to send. Just keep your eyes out for packages from me, that’s all. Well my dear nephew,

keep being the incredible artist you are, but try not to hurt the people that love you.

My Sorrows,

Uncle Yitzchok