It's May. The lovely month of May, as Guinevere and Arthur sang, in memory of what was and is no longer. So many items and thoughts in those two categories and with them they carry the opposite of happiness - sadness, even as much of the glaringly missing happiness of the heart remains - in memories, in love, forever. One runs to embrace it, to keep it close, able to be felt, emotionally, yet at some times with such overwhelming emotion, there is almost a physical memory, vital, intact and felt. In body, mind, soul, and heart, there is at one and the same time a gladdening, a blossoming within oneself, andd a groaning, weeping, mammoth hole.
And we cry out to the Lord Above. Why? Why have you taken them? Why have you left us bereft? Why must we struggle through waters of grief, dodge boulders of anguish? An anguish bearing down upon our shoulders, heavy, weeping; why did you have to double it in so short of time, not allowing for the memory and grief of and for one to dissipate at least somewhat before the next rogue wave rolls upon us and drives us deeper into a quagmire of griefs? Waiting, as it does every year, from 2005, 21 years of longing, for answers to questions going begging, of advice not forthcoming.
But Daddy, Pops, we could have and indeed did wish for you to have had a longer life, to remain enmeshed, as one, as you were with Mommy, ever since you were 16. The joy you took in life as you watched your kids, your grandchildren, your great grandchildren, as they refused to allow you to not be a part of their lives and playtimes, your discussions with your older grandchildren. The respect and honor all kinds and types of people, from all walks of life, all ethnicities, all religions, all ages, even those who had differing opinions, all directed at you, for you. At your funeral they stood in the streets. So special a person you were. So special a friend. So special a husband, father, grandfather, great grandfather, son, uncle, brother and brother-in-law. A contributing member of the community. A lawyer. A judge known for his honesty.
Born on May 8, 1920. Died on the fourth candle of Chanukah, and one of the last things you did was to light a candle, say the brachot and sing Maozcc Tzur. Those of us in the room, including his wonderful aide, sang along, with tears running down our faces. And you left us, to go and argue with your G-d how to correct the world, to be understanding and merciful to His Creations. And you watched over your family, kept track of them, even as we felt your continued eyes and love upon us.
The joy you shared with us as we welcomed the beautiful youngest great-grandson into the family. Little did we know at that time the special and unique boy he was to be. A boy like you, Pop, who won over all and any he met. Equally as modest and straight in his ways, other than for two things. When he wished to hide his extra early morning hours on the computer, a pro even at an amazingly early age, his sympathy for me when I consistency lost games to him and I was trying! The other was when he, (we) conspired (I was an active participant in these 'crimes') to raise the number of opportunities to eat chocolate, with me even agreeing with his declaration at three that chocolate was not 'cendy'. He shared that knowledge with his mother trying so very hard trying not to laugh at his chocolate smeared face.
Yitzy was confused and bewildered, not understanding of the admiration and praise heaped upon him by children and adults alike, his amazing athletic abilities, especially in baseball, his sportsmanship, his high standing in school in wisdom and enthusiasm, a brilliant mind, a great student, and one with whom all wanted to be best friends, even as he made sure to befriend and welcome all outliers into his ever widening, ever warmer, ever growing circle in life. Most unusual, he was the favorite of all members of the family, not a whit of jealously; in fact, it was the opposite, with all showering him with love and attention, with together time. They even tolerated his love of nature, his enormous fund of knowledge re birds, and creatures of Nature, and accepted his crested lizard, Cresty, and a rather long snake he called Creamsicle. (Please note that this is the one point where we differed. I do not particularly care for creatures other than the 2-legged ones called humans, and even then ...!)
Disaster! No way! Why him! Why not me? G-d, what are you doing? How could you do this? One of the best human beings, certainly of our time and most probably of all times. We were all frightened, heartbroken, and searched high and low for a cure, for an extension of time, for him to heal.
At the very end I came across a trial for him, hope to heal, to be shed of his rare and aggressive cancer. I contacted the scientists, explained the situation, and that I was a grieving desperate heartbroken grandmother and they were wonderful. Alas, it was too late, for even with the amazingly rapid communication and special approval for the drug - it was too late.
His body was exhausted, riddled with cancer, his liver failed. He was ready and thus explained to his family, and they stayed at the hospital from then on, celebrating the Festival of Lights, Chanukah, even as his light was fading. He spent his last conscious hours singing the songs of the holiday, reciting the blessings, and singing along with the guitar his brother-in-law was playing, as the family gathered, singing with tears and fear and tortured love.
The nurses were there as well, those who had been by his side from the beginning, loving him, admiring Yitzy and the amazing humor and spirit and courage he evidenced as he underwent difficult and painful chemo and radiation, the crippling nausea, the pain, the disappointments so difficult to withstand, the grief of his loved ones as they remained in his room, as they awaited the inevitable, the bravely fought, the loss unbearable, yet there it was.
Another Festival of Light bedimmed by grief, always to remain so, even as we continue to talk of Yitzy, of my father. Both born in the month of May, days apart, doubling the grief, the good and the bittersweet memories, the now not so merry month of May. And at another time of the year when our lights are lit in the menorah they are lesser in light, dimmer in joy, for both were taken from us on Chanukah, a day apart. my Pop and our Yitzy.
Words of and from the heart.
Forever.
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