My father died in December of 2003, from cancer.  It was a tumultuous passing, and he did not go quietly into the night.  As he said to me two days before, while holding my hand during his last car ride, “I’m not ready to go.”  He had never held my hand.

Among other passions, he was a collector of beautiful things.  What’s Left was a handmade book of original prints, and an accompanying exhibition, commemorating the end of his life.