Tribute to Mrs. Sara Nussbaum (Folk)

By Miriam Berkowitz

 

Since we lost my grandmother, Mrs. Sara Nussbaum, it’s been hard to look around and not see her everywhere. Almost every wall in our homes holds one of her paintings—each one full of light, color, and meaning.

 

Early roots

She grew up in Toms River, where her love for Torah and beauty took root early. Her father would walk over an hour to shul every Shabbos to daven with a minyan, and every week, he would lose his job for refusing to work on Shabbos. She grew up watching what real commitment to Torah looked like.

After living in Lakewood, Brooklyn, and Flatbush, she spent the last 15 years of her life in Country Place to be near two of her sons.

My grandmother was niftar on 2 Cheshvan, Erev Shabbos Kodesh, at exactly 5:30 a.m.—the time her husband wakes up each morning—so she wouldn’t disturb anyone. It was so like her: thoughtful, considerate, and selfless to her very last moment.

 

 

An artist through Torah

She was an artist who saw everything through the lens of Torah. Every painting she made had Hebrew woven right in—pesukim she’d carefully incorporate into her work. She brought together beauty and spirituality in a way that was completely her own.

 

Lessons in creativity

Whenever she came to babysit, she’d bring her painting supplies. We’d sit together and draw and paint, turning regular afternoons into something memorable. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was picking up more than just how to mix colors or hold a brush. I was learning to see things the way she did—that creating something beautiful wasn’t just about the end result; it was about connecting to something meaningful.

She loved hearing about her grandkids’ creativity, and you could see the nachas in her eyes when we’d talk about our projects. Now I realize she wasn’t just being a proud grandmother—she was watching her creative legacy continue in us.

 

 

 

A legacy in every home

Almost all her paintings went to her children and grandchildren. When one of us moved into a new apartment or house, she was there within two days, arms full of paintings. She’d come by afterward just to see how they looked on the walls. That brought her so much joy—knowing her art filled our homes with color and warmth.

 

 

Colors that endure

Even now, when I work on something creative, I feel her there. The way I approach projects, the care I put into details, and the love I put into creating—it all comes from her. Her artwork still does that. Every brushstroke, every pasuk, every burst of color feels like a piece of her—alive in our homes and in the way we see the world. Her paintings now hang on the walls of her children’s and grandchildren’s homes, carrying her creativity, her Torah values, and the beauty she brought into everything she touched. Though her hand no longer holds a brush, her colors continue to fill our lives—with light, with memory, and with meaning.

May her neshamah have an aliyah.