Obituaries

Condolences

• 10/01/2021

  Jim LeCuyer

  I lived with Florence for the last 13 years of her life. I was fearful of love, but I saw she was my soul mate, the person who soon taught me how deep love could be. I was in shock after she died, perhaps insane. That loss is what I always feared. I can still see her brave smile, the determined and hopeful one she held right to the last breath. I still talk to her. There was never anyone quite like her, as all who knew her can agree. She gave so much to so many. I can still see her in that last week as she bravely tried to do the exercises given her at rehab, bouncing a balloon, pumping a stationary bicycle, where she was forced to wear a painful back brace. Her courage. She had the most giving heart and the most beautiful soul I have ever experienced. We were adult children together. We deeply loved so many things together, the walk around Lake Elizabeth, the great tree at Shinn Park, sitting side by side at Bean Hollow admiring the ocean, whale watching while the great creatures spouted and surfaced twenty or thirty feet from our small boat, so close we could smell their fishy breath, the many poetry readings we attended together, her friends who loved her and who brought her much joy, Elena, Denny, Barbara, Vera, May, Robin, Ming, Yelda, Renee, Ronnie, Eric, Ingrid, Elaine, Judy, Lucy, Wulf, Dave,Sylvia,Eddie, her Shakespeare Sisters, Jan, Gail, Joan, to name just the few last ones I knew. All who came in contact with her who loved her, those who kept house for her, who took care of her at the last. One does not recover from such a loss. I have not been able to write of her until now. I apologize to all who wanted more of me. I miss you all. I more than miss Flo, my dearest Flo, my little gun moll.

• 10/01/2021

  Mallory Fromm

  Florence was a dear friend of my mother, Marty Fromm (née Doros) from the time they taught high school together in Elizabeth, New Jersey. The two kept in touch for almost seventy years, and during my childhood and beyond, my mother would often wax rhapsodic in nostalgia for the good times they had shared. I last met Florence in the late Spring of 2009. My mother was suffering from mild dementia, and moved out here to be near me, my wife, and her grandchild. She invited Florence to visit with her in her Los Angeles apartment. Florence stayed for a week, and lifted my mother's spirits. It was good to hear her laugh again. I said to Florence, "It was good of you to come. Marty's attention goes in and out; she doesn't always follow conversations; I know it can be frustrating." Florence replied, "Marty is my bud. That's what bud's do. We take care of each other." When Marty died four years later, Florence wrote me a sensitive and memorable letter expressing her condolences and her love for Marty. I did not know Florence well, but what little I knew was wonderful. My wife and I think of her with warmth and affection. She was a true poet. Mallory Fromm Woodland Hills, CA March 26, 2020