Virginia "Ginnie" Liman

You took my little hand in yours and said "let"s go to a magical land". I was all in! You were my big sister after all & I would follow you anywhere, like a puppy. You shall remain an indelible part of my being! We will reunite again in another time, another realm and another magical place, filled with stardust So Rest in peace and bliss, your loving Sister, Beth

My mother took in beauty with her eyes first, then her hands. Paper poppies and camellias captured her attention even in her final days, each bloom a sensory experience that lit up her face. She was an artist who flowed between creative modes like water finding its path: fashion journalism where her sketches of draped hosiery appeared in Women's Wear Daily, calligraphy that moved like poetry across the page, and even in her last week, designing dresses suited for whatever state life called her to inhabit.

She told stories that carried you through her unique landscape of seeing—engaging tales that drew people in with her distinctive voice. Her artist-speak could be flowery and nonlinear, burying the lead while painting vivid pictures that others sometimes struggled to follow. From an early age, I became her translator, bridging her ethereal way of being with a world that expected more direct communication. But in the space between puns and metaphors—in sounds and sights that danced together—that's where we truly met.

What lives on is her gift for helping others see beauty as she did: the flow of a hairstyle, the drape of fabric, moments of love made visible. Her lively spirit, infectious humor, and that impish quality—like facing down a black and white cookie as large as her head with pure delight—reminded everyone that the world is full of wonder if you just know how to look. She was, above all, an artist and a writer who lived to reveal the extraordinary in the ordinary, and that vision continues to ripple through everyone she touched.

May her memory be a blessing.