Mom, Of Blessed Memory, Hareini Kaparat Mishkavah

Here's my mother at 21, on her wedding day, wearing a gown loaned to her by her dear friend and colleague Lillian Bartell. I found out that it was Lillian's dress shortly after shiva, when we spoke on the phone. They started their first teaching assignment together in The South Bronx shortly after people started saying The South Bronx in that way. They stayed in touch for the rest of their lives, or more precisely till a week before my mother suddenly passed away.

It's a beautiful dress, isn't it? And more importantly, my mother is, was, will be, beautiful. My mother told me that people said she looked like Ingrid Bergman. During shiva we passed the picture back and forth. Some people saw Grace Kelly. One friend told me during her shiva visit that before the funeral some older women behind her were talking. One told another, "You remember when Phyllis Fleischmann moved in and we all said she was the prettiest woman in Bayside."

Excuse the glare on the right of the picture. This is a a digital picture of the original photograph, in its 52 year old pane. It sat in private on my mother's dresser. That's where it sits again. After shiva I took one shot of the picture and that's what you see here.

Wed, Dec 30, 2009 at 8:51 AM

Still wondering what happened

to take your mother so unexpectedly. :-(

The above email was sent to me on what was the third real day of shiva. Due to one of halacha's magic loopholes it counted as day four. I have yet to answer that question.

I can't save messages on my machine forever, but I can try. For a month and a day message number one remains the same. It starts with the baritone electronic voice saying loudly and clearly, "Friday, 7:18 A.M." Then comes the message, "Neil, your mother's not feeling well. Take a cab and come out here as soon as possible."

It was Christmas day (when I was 35 I was embarrassed into finally remembering the date). I was off for the day. The phone woke me from the other room. I could tell from my father's tone that it was serious and the wisest thing to do was to listen. I got out of my home and over to his in about twenty minutes. On the way out I knocked over a picture and broke the glass frame, a harbinger of breakage, loss.

TO BE CONTINUED...