The recall by Big Olaf Creamery came as federal authorities are investigating its products, which have been linked to infections that led to one person’s death and the hospitalization of two dozen.A Florida business is recalling its ice cream amid an investigation into a listeria outbreak that has been blamed for the death of one person and the hospitalization of two dozen, the Food and Drug Administration said on Wednesday.The company, Big Olaf Creamery, a family-owned business in Sarasota, Fla., recalled all flavors of its ice cream with expiration dates through June 30 “because it has the potential to be contaminated” with listeria bacteria, the F.D.A. said. Listeria causes an illness that can be fatal, especially among children, older adults and those with weakened immune systems, and an infection can also cause miscarriages and stillbirths among pregnant women.Big Olaf Creamery stopped producing and distributing its ice cream on July 1 after the Florida Department of Health told the company that it was investigating an outbreak tied to its products, the F.D.A. said in a statement.The ice cream is made by Amish craftsmen at a creamery in Pinecraft, a neighborhood in Sarasota. The products had been sold to retailers, restaurants and senior homes in Florida, and at one undisclosed location in Fredericksburg, Ohio, the F.D.A. said.“Big Olaf is cooperating fully with regulatory authorities to successfully return all suspected products and has requested retailers to stop sales and dispose of product,” the agency said in a statement. The F.D.A. added that its investigation was continuing, and that other ice cream brands could also have caused infections.Big Olaf Creamery did not immediately respond to a phone call seeking comment on Wednesday evening.Earlier this month, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said the company was tied to a listeria outbreak in 10 states. Of those hospitalized, 10 people lived out of state and had visited Florida in the previous month, the C.D.C. said.The people who were infected live in Colorado, Florida, Georgia, Illinois, Kansas, Massachusetts, Minnesota, New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania, according to the C.D.C.Infections had occurred over the last six months and affected people less than a year old to 92 years old, the agency said. Five became ill during pregnancy, with one experiencing a fetal loss, the C.D.C. said.As of July 8, 23 people had been infected with the outbreak strain of listeria, according to the agency’s website. About 1,600 people contract listeriosis in the United States each year from contaminated food.Infections can cause flulike symptoms, including fever, muscle aches, vomiting and diarrhea, which generally begin roughly two weeks after ingesting food laced with the bacteria, though the onset can vary, the C.D.C. said. Severe cases can take months to develop, the Food and Drug Administration said.About one in five people with listeriosis die, according to the C.D.C. The infection is particularly dangerous during pregnancy, causing fetal loss in about 20 percent of cases.Past outbreaks have been connected to undercooked poultry, raw vegetables and unpasteurized milks and ice cream, the F.D.A. said.

RaDonda Vaught, a former nurse at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Tennessee, said at her sentencing, “‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t seem like enough.”A former nurse whose medication error killed a patient in Tennessee was sentenced to three years of probation on Friday, ending a case that had prompted concern among health care workers fearful that medical mistakes will be criminalized.The nurse, RaDonda Vaught, apologized to the relatives of the 75-year-old victim, Charlene Murphey, who was injected with a fatal dose of vecuronium, a paralyzing drug, instead of Versed, a sedative, while at Vanderbilt University Medical Center for a brain injury on Dec. 26, 2017, according to court papers.Ms. Murphey had been scheduled to get a PET scan that day and wanted medication to control her anxiety, a lawyer for Ms. Vaught said.“Saying ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t seem like enough,” Ms. Vaught, 38, who broke down in tears, told Ms. Murphey’s family at the sentencing. “But you deserve to hear that. You deserve to know that I am very sorry for what happened.”Ms. Vaught, who was found guilty in March of gross neglect of an impaired adult and negligent homicide, was also issued a judicial diversion, which would expunge her criminal record if she successfully completes probation.“This offense occurred in a medical setting,” Judge Jennifer Smith of the Davidson County Criminal Court said at the sentencing. “It was not motivated by any intent to violate the law, but through oversight and gross negligence and neglect, as the jury concluded. The defendant also accepted responsibility immediately. She made every effort in the moment that she recognized her error to remedy the situation.”Ms. Vaught’s criminal conviction jolted nurses across the country, who have complained of being exhausted by working conditions during the pandemic and persistent staff shortages at hospitals. Her case was viewed as yet another threat to the profession — one that could have a chilling effect on patient care if nurses become more hesitant to report mistakes.Ms. Vaught said in March that the jury’s decision in her case would “have more of an impact on the nursing community and health care overall.”The American Nurses Association agreed, saying in a statement in March that it was “deeply distressed by this verdict and the harmful ramifications of criminalizing the honest reporting of mistakes.”On Friday, the association said it was “grateful to the judge for demonstrating leniency in the sentencing.”“Unfortunately, medical errors can and do happen, even among skilled, well-meaning, and vigilant nurses and health care professionals,” the association said.Demonstrators outside the courthouse in Nashville on Friday. Health care workers said they feared that medical mistakes could be criminalized.Mark Humphrey/Associated PressThe Davidson County district attorney’s office, which prosecuted the case, did not immediately respond to a request for comment on Saturday. Prosecutors did not oppose the probation sentence on Friday.“We’re very pleased and relieved with the outcome of the sentencing,” Peter Strianse, Ms. Vaught’s lawyer, said on Saturday.Ms. Murphey’s son, Michael Murphey, told the court on Friday that “knowing my mom, the way my mom was and stuff, she wouldn’t want to see” Ms. Vaught serve prison time.“That’s just mom,” he said. “Mom was a very forgiving person.”The Associated Press reported that Ms. Murphey’s husband did want Ms. Vaught to serve a prison sentence.As she waited to hear the judge’s sentencing, Ms. Vaught visibly shook and took deep breaths. After the sentencing, while others left the courtroom, she placed tissues on her eyes, rested her head on the table and cried.Outside the courthouse, nurses wearing purple gathered in support and cheered, News Channel 5 in Nashville reported.Speaking to reporters in March, Ms. Vaught said that what had happened in 2017 “was something that will always be with me.”“Any time you take care of a patient and you have some sort of thing that bonds you, you don’t — good or bad — you don’t forget that as a nurse or as any good health care provider,” she said.Mr. Strianse had argued that Ms. Vaught’s mistakes were partly made because of systemic problems at the hospital, such as communication problems with the pharmacy department.But prosecutors had argued that her mistakes were criminally negligent. She overrode the medical system on a computer when she could not find the Versed medication, typed in “VE” and chose the first medication (the paralyzer vecuronium) on the list, according to a Tennessee Bureau of Investigations report.She then “failed to respond to a number of ‘red flags,’” according to the report: The vecuronium comes in powder form, unlike the liquid Versed, and the vecuronium has a red cap that states “Warning: Paralyzing Agent.”Ms. Vaught later admitted to investigators that she had been “distracted with something” at the time and should not have “overrode the medication because it wasn’t an emergency,” according to the report. Ms. Vaught eventually lost her nursing license.Chandra and Michael Murphey listen as Judge Jennifer Smith announced the sentence on Friday.Pool photo by Nicole HesterErik Knutsen, a professor of medial malpractice law at Queen’s University in Ontario, Canada, said on Saturday that while he does not blame nurses for being concerned, especially during a pandemic, Ms. Vaught’s case does not signal “an open season on nurses.”Health care workers are accustomed to negligence lawsuits in which patients seek financial compensation, he said. Criminal prosecutions, however, are rarer and “feel personal” because, unlike other negligence lawsuits, the potential price is prison time.“A district attorney’s office, before they even think about bringing a criminal charge, would have to think, ‘Gee, do we have a reasonable shot here of convicting this person?’” Mr. Knutsen said.To have a chance at a conviction, the district attorney was likely to have believed that Ms. Vaught’s mistakes were particularly “egregious and preventable,” he said.It’s likely that prosecutors wanted to send a message and “deter that kind of behavior in the workplace that can hurt or kill,” Mr. Knutsen said.“I think this is going to be a very, very rare, one-off occurrence,” he said. The prosecutor, he added, had sent a clear message: “Nurses, be careful.”

After Abbott Nutrition issued voluntary recalls of its popular baby formulas, retailers have limited purchases, leaving desperate parents searching for solutions.The manufacturer of Ashley Hernandez’s preferred baby formula for her two girls said it was out of stock on its website. Listings on eBay showed it would cost her up to $120 for a single can. So when she found a seller online offering 10 cans for $40 each, she expressed her desperation.“I have two children,” Ms. Hernandez, 35, of Dallas, began her message. “I cannot find it. I can purchase this today. I can pay cash.”Parents across the country are struggling to keep up with a nationwide shortage of baby formula — a problem worsened by a recent recall by Abbott Nutrition, a manufacturer of baby food. The recall came after at least four babies were hospitalized with bacterial infections and two died after consuming its products, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration said.“We know that our recent recall caused additional stress and anxiety in an already challenging situation of a global supply shortage,” Abbott said in a statement last month. “We are working hard to help moms, dads and caregivers get the high-quality nutrition they need for their babies.”Now, several major retailers eager to preserve inventory are limiting how much baby formula their customers can buy.The drugstore chain CVS said in a statement that “following supplier challenges and increased customer demand,” buyers will be limited to three baby formula products per purchase in stores and online.Walgreens echoed that in a statement, saying it had also imposed a three-item limit in an attempt “to help improve inventory.” Target said it had a four-item limit online but no in-store limits.Costco, which did not immediately respond to an email seeking comment on Saturday, had various caps on formulas listed on its website.“The unprecedented scope of this infant formula recall has serious consequences for babies and new parents,” Brian Dittmeier, the senior director of public policy at the National WIC Association, said on Saturday. The nonprofit provides nutritional assistance for women, infants and children across the country.Mr. Dittmeier said that Abbott Nutrition is the exclusive supplier for more than half of the WIC agencies nationwide, meaning that “this is not an isolated issue.”“Every day, we hear from parents who are hurt, angry, anxious and scared,” he said. “The lives of their infants are on the line.”In retail stores, shelves are often empty. And parents online are forming Facebook groups to alert one another of restocked inventory or bargains — both rare nowadays, Ms. Hernandez said.“It’s a nightmare,” she said.In one Facebook group called “baby formula for sale,” a mother on Saturday begged for a specific brand: “Looking for Similac NeoSure in the Arizona area! Please help!! I’m almost out.”Mr. Dittmeier said that “unlike other food recalls, shortages in the infant formula supply affects a major — or even exclusive — source of nutrition for babies.” Inadequate nutrition, he added, “could have long-term health implications.”Datasembly, a retail software company, said that about 31 percent of formula products were out of stock across the country as of April. In seven states — Connecticut, Delaware, Montana, New Jersey, Rhode Island, Texas and Washington — the rate for the week of April 3 was even worse, at 40 percent.The shortage is also financially burdening families already grappling with a surge in inflation. The office of the U.S. Surgeon General said on its website that families typically spend up to $1,500 on infant formula in the first year.Mr. Dittmeier said that the shortage is “particularly acute for infants who require specialty formulas to address allergies, gastrointestinal issues or metabolic disorders.”Ms. Hernandez said that her daughters, one 6 months old and the other 3 years old, both need such specialty formula.The seller she messaged sold her the 10 cans but that will last only about five or six weeks, she estimated. The formula she usually buys, EleCare, was one of the Abbott products recalled in February, Ms. Hernandez said.The affected products have already been pulled from stores, but parents can use an online search through Abbott Nutrition to check the status of the products they need.The Infant Nutrition Council of American said in a statement that formula companies were “committed to ensuring continued availability of infant formulas for every baby” during the shortage.But Mr. Dittmeier said assurances from manufacturers about stepped-up production have not led to products reaching store shelves. “Each day that this crisis continues, parents grow more anxious and desperate to find what they need to feed their infants,” he said.

ThedaCare had sought to temporarily prevent seven employees from leaving for jobs at Ascension, saying the departures would jeopardize patient care. A judge sided with the workers on Monday.A judge in Wisconsin on Monday lifted an order that had temporarily blocked seven employees of ThedaCare, a major regional hospital system, from leaving for new jobs with another health care network until it could find people to replace them.The dismissal of a temporary injunction cleared the way for the workers to begin new jobs with Ascension Northeast Wisconsin. Last week, ThedaCare sued Ascension, seeking to temporarily keep the workers from leaving and touching off an unusual labor dispute rooted in twin crises roiling the health care industry: a shortage of workers, many of whom are demanding higher wages, and a raging coronavirus pandemic.Ascension Northeast Wisconsin said in a statement before Monday’s hearing that ThedaCare “had an opportunity but declined to make competitive counter offers to retain its former employees.”The employees, members of ThedaCare’s interventional radiology and cardiovascular team, were at-will employees and were not contractually obligated to stay with ThedaCare for a fixed time, according to Ascension, which is part of one of the largest Catholic health care systems in the United States.ThedaCare, which operates seven hospitals and provides care to more than 600,000 people annually, said in its lawsuit that it was seeking to “protect the community” by temporarily retaining the employees, who accepted new jobs with Ascension in December and were supposed to start on Monday.It added that the employees, who together comprise a majority of an 11-person team, provide “vital care for critically ill patients” and that Ascension “should have known that this action would decimate ThedaCare’s ability to provide critical care” to trauma and stroke victims in the Fox River Valley, a three-county stretch from Green Bay to Oshkosh.Judge Mark McGinnis of Outagamie County Circuit Court granted ThedaCare’s request for a temporary restraining order blocking the employees from starting at Ascension this week as planned, and told the lawyers for both parties on Friday to seek a deal, The Post-Crescent of Appleton, Wis., reported. The lawsuit was filed as hospital systems across the country, including in Wisconsin, are struggling to retain workers during the pandemic.But Joe Veenstra, a labor and employment lawyer in La Crosse, Wis., said the lawsuit was an unusual and far-reaching attempt by ThedaCare to interfere with the free market and to keep employees without having to pay them higher wages.“We’ve definitely entered an alternate universe,” Mr. Veenstra said, adding: “Now we have managements incapable of controlling labor and asking courts to prevent the free market from happening. It’s just, we’re living in an upside down world right now.”It was unclear how long ThedaCare wanted to retain the seven employees. The hospital system said in its lawsuit that it wanted Ascension to either lend one radiology technician and one nurse to ThedaCare each a day until it hired adequate staff or Ascension should pause its hiring of the employees until replacements could be found.Mr. Veenstra said that for ThedaCare “to restrict their employment in this way, it’s very, very unusual.”ThedaCare says in the lawsuit that in order to retain the Level II trauma center status at ThedaCare Regional Medical Center-Neenah — the second-highest category a hospital can achieve — it must be able to perform interventional radiology procedures 24 hours a day. That is impossible to sustain if the employees leave, it says.If the hospital is unable to provide round-the-clock interventional radiology care, such as restoring blood flow to a patient’s brain after a stroke, it would “risk the withdrawal of its Level II trauma center verification” and be forced to transport patients elsewhere, the lawsuit states.Timothy Breister, one of the departing employees mentioned in the lawsuit, said in a letter to Judge McGinnis that Ascension “in no way recruited any of the seven of us,” as ThedaCare has argued.The Coronavirus Pandemic: Key Things to KnowCard 1 of 4Omicron in retreat.

Nadia Popovici wrote a message on her phone, with “mole,” “cancer” and “doctor” in bright-red type to get the attention of Brian Hamilton, an assistant equipment manager for the Vancouver Canucks.Nadia Popovici kept shifting her eyes from the hockey game to the back of Brian Hamilton’s neck.Mr. Hamilton, an assistant equipment manager for the Vancouver Canucks, had a small mole there. It measured about two centimeters and was irregularly shaped and red-brown in color — possible characteristics of a cancerous mole, signs that Ms. Popovici had learned to spot while volunteering at hospitals as a nursing assistant.Maybe he already knew? But if so, why was the mole still there? She concluded that Mr. Hamilton did not know.“I need to tell him,” Ms. Popovici, 22, told her parents at the Oct. 23 N.H.L. game between the Canucks and the Seattle Kraken at the Climate Pledge Arena in Seattle.Ms. Popovici typed a message on her phone and waited for the game to end. After waving several times, she finally drew Mr. Hamilton’s attention, and placed her phone against the plexiglass.“The mole on the back of your neck is possibly cancerous. Please go see a doctor!” the message read, with the words “mole,” “cancer” and “doctor” colored bright red.Mr. Hamilton said he looked at the message, rubbed the back of his neck and kept walking, thinking, “Well, that’s weird.”Ms. Popovici said she regretted the message and thought at the time, “Maybe that was inappropriate of me to bring up.”After the game, Mr. Hamilton went home and asked his partner if she could spot the mole. She could. He asked the team doctor if it was worrisome. It was. Then after he had it removed, he waited for the biopsy results to see if the fan sitting behind the team’s bench had been right.Indeed, Ms. Popovici was correct, and she had just saved his life.“She took me out of a slow fire,” Mr. Hamilton said at a news conference on Saturday, his voice quavering at times. “And the words out of the doctor’s mouth were if I ignored that for four to five years, I wouldn’t be here.”Specifically, doctors later told him, it was type-2 malignant melanoma, a type of skin cancer that, because it was detected early, could be easily removed and treated.“With melanoma, just like many other cancers, the success of the treatment or the cure is often dependent on the stage of disease — and the sooner you find something, the better it is,” said Dr. Ashwani Rajput, the director of the Johns Hopkins Kimmel Cancer Center.Mr. Hamilton recalled the doctor telling him, “I’m going to diagnose you with cancer and I’m going to cure you of cancer in the same phone call.”Once he knew he was fine, Mr. Hamilton asked the Canucks franchise to help him find the woman he described as “a hero.”Mr. Hamilton wrote a letter that was posted on the team’s Twitter account on Saturday that said: “To this woman I am trying to find, you changed my life, and now I want to find you to say THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH! Problem is, I don’t know who you are or where you are from.”It took less than three hours to find Ms. Popovici, who had been sleeping at her home in Tacoma, Wash., that afternoon after working overnight as a crisis intervention specialist at a suicide prevention hotline.She woke up to texts and missed calls from her mother, Yukyung Nelson. “I think she was just shocked,” Ms. Nelson said.Ms. Popovici, who had already planned to attend the game on Saturday between the Canucks and Kraken in Seattle, was invited by both teams to meet Mr. Hamilton.He had just finished a news conference about what had happened. Referring to Ms. Popovici, he told reporters, “My mom wants her to know that she loves her.”Later that afternoon, he repeated the message to Ms. Popovici in person.“It was the sweetest thing when you were talking about your mom,” she told him as they met properly for the first time.At the game, both teams presented Ms. Popovici a combined $10,000 scholarship to use for medical school expenses.“Some people are saying this is not even going to be a drop in the bucket, but trust me, it feels like everything,” she said. “I’m really just so grateful.”She watched the game from the same seat where she had spotted the mole. Everything, she thought, had gone right that day: A future medical student had been sitting close enough to a team bench where an assistant equipment manager was, thankfully, not wearing a jacket large enough to cover the cancerous mole on his neck.“This entire experience has been so rare,” Ms. Popovici said. “And I will just cherish it.”

The pandemic has left hundreds of thousands of Americans alone in bereavement, unable to plan proper funerals for their loved ones. Now, they’re planning larger celebrations of life.The obituary had promised memorial services at a later date, so in May, Jessica Zimmerman-Selvidge sifted through photos of her father, trying to find the best ones for a celebration of his life.Time had moved quickly since last November, when her father, Ralph Zimmerman, died from Covid-19 in Springfield, Mo.But what had remained a constant source of pain, even months after his death, was the lack of a proper funeral. Seven months later, there was finally a chance to gather with loved ones at the local church, where they could share stories of him.The coronavirus pandemic, which brought social-distancing measures that included restrictions on gatherings, denied thousands of people the opportunity to grieve with others.Covid-19, which has led to the deaths of more than 600,000 people in the United States as of July, has left millions of Americans bereaved. The authors of an ongoing study from The Journal of Affective Disorders predict that severe grief “will become a worldwide public health concern.”Sheltering at home during the pandemic left many without a communal release of grief. Others felt cheated by online ceremonies devoid of touch, embraces and social connection. Postponed funerals, memorials and celebrations of life are being held, with hopes that the gatherings will ease feelings of guilt and, at last, open a path for solace. And surging cases of the coronavirus, driven by the more contagious Delta variant, raised the prospect of further postponements.“It feels really weird that he’s been gone for so long, and we’re just now doing all of this,” Mrs. Zimmerman-Selvidge said. “Normally, once a funeral is over, you kind of feel like you’re moving forward. But we haven’t been able to pivot in that way.”Jessica Zimmerman-Selvidge holding a photograph showing, from left, her father, Ralph Zimmerman, her husband, Bryan Selvidge, and herself. Her father liked attending games of the Springfield Cardinals, a minor league team of the St. Louis Cardinals.Joseph Rushmore for The New York TimesThis resolve to still have a funeral is a testament to people’s resilience, said Dr. Katherine Shear, a psychiatrist and the founder and director of the Center for Complicated Grief at Columbia University.“Everyone’s trying to celebrate right now, but these people are saying, ‘No, it’s also sad,’” Dr. Shear said. “They’re willing to stay with the pain and the sadness if it means they get a chance to acknowledge the person they lost.”The effect that end-of-life rituals have on those grieving has not been comprehensively researched but for many cultures, “funerals are a place to release pain,” said Dr. Leela Magavi, a psychiatrist in Newport Beach, Calif.Rabia Khan of Chicago said that not being able to carry out someone’s vision for their funeral had been frustrating. Before Ms. Khan’s 80-year-old father, Hameed Ullah Khan, died in November last year, he had pictured friends united at the mosque, praying from the Quran and reminiscing about the Pakistani newspaper he created. “It’s amazing we get a second chance at that now,” she said.For Jeneffer Haynes of Gaithersburg, Md., losing her 30-year-old brother, John Estampador, to Covid-19 in January and having to be alone with her grief was “absolutely indescribable,” she said.“He was born with Down syndrome, and he was just this big kid, lovable, an absolute joy,” she said.Jeneffer Haynes touching a pendant molded from the thumbprint of her brother John. “He loved giving us a thumbs-up,” she said. “That was his thing.”Rosem Morton for The New York TimesAt the funeral in June, she had been asked to stand 10 feet away from his coffin and not embrace the few people there, including her mother, who cried: “Bye, John John. Bye, John John.”As friends and family got vaccinated, Ms. Haynes planned a larger celebration of her brother’s life on what would have been his 31st birthday.She bought cupcakes and placed a candle on each. She tied blue balloons to framed photos of her brother. And on the day of the celebration, she wrote to him on Facebook: “Today we would’ve hugged and kissed you, and taken goofy selfies. Instead, we will gather and we will celebrate your life, and we will cry today, John John.”After singing “Happy Birthday” and blowing out the candles, they did.John Estampador’s room has been kept as he left it, with his photos, religious items and a fishing rod.Rosem Morton for The New York TimesBarbara Sabat said she needed to have a ceremony for her mother, Meryl, this summer in Bensalem, Pa., because if she did not, her feelings of regret would never subside. “I’m in grief purgatory,” she said.Those who lost someone to Covid-19 are at an increased risk of developing prolonged grief disorder, in which a person’s bereavement is so intense that it disrupts day-to-day activities, experts said. The disorder, they added, affects about 10 percent of people who lose someone close to them.Because the pandemic disproportionately killed Black people, Indigenous people and other people of color, prolonged grief disorder is likely to become more prevalent in those communities, which already lack adequate mental health resources, experts said.“When you don’t have that process of a funeral, it can stunt your grieving,” said Kenneth Fowler, a traumatologist based in Tallahassee, Fla.Religious leaders and funeral directors of various faiths have described the postponed memorials they have presided over this summer as more celebratory than usual.“For us Native Americans, we need to be together, sharing food, stories, praying so our loved ones who are dead can reach the creator,” said Robert Gill, a funeral director from Buffalo, Minn., and a citizen of the Sisseton Wahpeton Oyate tribe.Mr. Gill said he preserved some bodies for months to give people a chance to organize a larger burial service. When those gatherings finally happen, “spirit plates” — with the ancestors’ favorite foods, such as fried ribs, chokeberry jams and roasted buffalo — are served for attendees.Many families are using the extended planning periods to create detailed remembrances.Frederick Harris, a Vietnam War veteran, loved Smirnoff vodka with grapefruit juice and Motown music, so that’s what his daughter, Nicole Elizabeth, 34, will serve and play at his memorial in Hadley, Mass., later this year.“It’s daunting to plan because I want to make it fun and want to be able to share memories with so many people,” she said. “But I’m hoping it’ll bring me some peace because for a lot of us, it’s just been this limbo.”About 60 people were at the church in June to honor Mrs. Zimmerman-Selvidge’s father. Those attending passed a microphone across the pews and shared memories of him.Finally, it was his daughter’s turn. Mrs. Zimmerman-Selvidge sighed. “He just loved us all so much,” she said, and then paused.Her father’s urn was on a table in front of her. In her purse was a letter she had forced herself to write after his death.It began with words that were sometimes too painful to speak aloud: “I miss you.”