The Connections Bridgewater-Somerville Edition April/May 2026

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A SLICE OF LIFE The Dash By Ellyn Mantell

ably never does properly highlight the agony of such loss. Arriving early at the funeral home, I no ticed the sign on the door to another service, which began at 9:00 a.m. It was for a boy named Marc. His dates said he was twen ty-three years old, and his death came from a motorcycle accident. Although he was half the age of my father, his dash was the same size. What had he done in the period between his birth and death? His family’s dreams crashed with that accident, but where was that mentioned or acknowledged in the symbolic line between his birth and death?

the age of my father, close to four times the age of Marc. Didn’t he then deserve a longer dash line? I want my life to have a deeper meaning... Let living our best lives count all the wondrous days between the dash! As I grow older, I am more mindful of the enormous responsibility of the symbol, that of representing one’s life. My thoughts bring me to my own dash. How will I be remem bered by my family and those for whom I have cared so much in my lifetime? I want my life to have a deeper meaning to feel honest and impactful, have gravitas and value. I want people to have learned from me, to have been seen by me, to have felt my concern and adoration for them. A lofty goal, yes, but one I absolutely and inten tionally embrace! My path is about family, friends and community and making an im pact that glows with tolerance and empathy for others. It feels comforting to know the road I want to have traveled by the end. Let living our best lives count all the wondrous days between the dash!

braham Lincoln, 1809-1865 Changed our country and society Adolph Hitler, 1889-1945 Dictator orchestrated the genocide of millions Mother Theresa, 1910-1997 Saint known for missionary work While that is where their similarities end ed, they are forever remembered by that dash, less by the dates preceding and suc ceeding it. A tiny symbol represents the days lived by a person; their accomplishments, goals, failures, dreams, nightmares, and/or reprehensible actions. Most of us have a choice-free will to act in a way that makes us feel pride, happiness, success, love. Defining ourselves is a desire, and it becomes a guideline for our actions. When I think about the importance of the

dash, one specific day consumes my heart and my head. It was June 29, 1969, a hot Sunday, the day we buried my father. I was still in shock, having watched with horror as he unexpectedly died, crumbling to the bed, a big man reduced to a pile on the blanket, just the morning before. His funeral was at 11:00 a.m. that Sunday morning. Herman Aron Finkel, forty-five years old. The sign on the door to the chapel where our service was to take place speci fied the dates of his birth and death. There was nothing to denote the dash of his life, of course. He was a husband, a father of three daughters, a brother, cousin, uncle, and friend. My family held each other tightly. My father’s dash left us with no guidance, no direction, just days of living. The dash was not hinting at what was to come. It prob

I noticed a third door, a man whose funeral was at 1:00 p.m. He was ninety years old, twice

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