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My Father, Jeff Curtis died eleven years ago yesterday in Mountainside New Jersey.
During Thanksgiving of 2010, I visited my Nana Curtis at her nursing home. I brought my recorder with me and asked her to say something into the microphone. We used to talk on the phone a lot which helped since I live in San Francisco and she lives in New Jersey. But, a couple of years ago, she decided she didn't want to use the telephone anymore, not just with me but with anyone. As I held the microphone to her mouth, I told her I just wanted her to say what ever was on her mind, so I could play it when I missed her. She stared out the window and fixated on the trees. I didn't know if she was going to say anything. And then she said this.