YAHRTZEIT

     Yahrtzeit is the Yiddish word for the year anniversary of a death, based on the Hebrew calendar. My Pop, always trying to make things easy for his family, died on the fourth candle of Chanukah, so as we light the candlec tonite, we will also light the candle in his memory and it will burn all thru the day tomorrow.
     I, nor any of my family, do not need a candle to remind us of my dad. He is in our memories and hearts forever and in the hearts and minds of his grandchildren and older great grandchildren. Tonite one of them, my #2 grandson, in Israel, will be making a special learning discussion and meal in his name and I could not be any prouder and for sure, there will be two granddaughters who will be both crying and laughing as they remember favorite stories with him. We sponsored a special Sabbath meal in his name and Gerry spoke of him with warmth and love at this meal.
     As for me, this will be a hard day, today and tomorrow. I will always have in front of me and etched in my memory, the last active moment I see. We were lighting the first candle of Chanukah and all of us there, my daughter, my mom, whose heart was broken and shattered already, me and the caregiver, helped my dad into a chair by the menorah and sang the blessings almost as much in the name of the holiday as in his name. And then it happened. For days he had not opened his eyes, not communicated yet that nite, with eyes closed, as we sang, he weakly waved his hand in tune with the music and there was not a dry eye in the room. I believe it was at that point that G-d decided that this man had suffered enough and it was time to take him home.
     On the third day of Chanukah, with no hope left, I quickly ran home to get things and meds I would need for a longer stay, through the period of shiva (7 days of mourning) and beyond as I would stay some extra weeks with my mom. Gerry would come back with me. While waiting in the airport, I wrote what I would say at the funeral, not a mourning speech as it was not allowed during a time of joy as Chanukah was, but a celebration of his life, of my memories of him, and called Gerry when it was done. And there in the airport at a JetBlue gate it hit me that this was my farewell to him, for him and for me. My heart broke and I sat there and sobbed and kindly people helped me into the plane with my carryon.
     That nite we received a phone call from my sister and as soon as the phone rang we knew. Gerry was as heartbroken as I was for to my parents, to my father, Gerry was a son, so much so that at times I had to remind them, "Hey, I was here first! You know me longer!" And so we sadly returned to NY and said goodbye to my Pop and wished G-d good luck when he received my dad into his new home, for my dad was a fierce fighter for justice and a foe of injustice and trust me, he is giving G-d a daily what for, for what is happening on this earth!
     And we cried along with packed rooms and hallways and into the street as the funeral crowd was beyond words with all types of people there all in honor of Pop. And to this day, when someone who knew him says to  another, "That's Natie's daughter" I glow with pride.
     I still miss you far more than words can ever say. I miss your advice, your love, your humor, your simple presence in my life. I can still see you at your desk, often with a person or two sitting there as you tried to help them in whatever crisis they faced.
     Sorry, Pop, gotta go. Cannot type anymore. Too many tears. I love you. I love you, Pop. Take care of Mommy for us. And always watch over us.