2009 is ending on a very hectic note.
January was quiet enough. I lost one of my two part time jobs, but was coping with some book editing and dusted off my web editing skills. We're three generations under one roof, with my son and daughter-in-law and their three wonderful children, so it wasn't a bad idea that I had a bit more time to help out, and I had more time to work on some health problems of my own.
February began with my dear in-laws celebrating Dad's 98th birthday. A very vigorous couple who loved to dance, Abe & Esther Cohen had been Bally's geriatric representatives for several years, going on local TV shows like Ali & Jack and News12 to promote senior fitness. They gave quite a jitterbug demonstration at Dad's party. Then, just a few days later, Abe started having breathing troubles and was diagnosed with emphysema. That soon escalated into pneumonia and other complications. He fought hard, determined to still be here for his beloved great-grandson's bar mitzvah in October, but G'd decided otherwise, and Abe succumbed in July.
I will always treasure a bittersweet memory of Dad's passing: A few weeks before, we got permission to bring my grandson to see him in the hospital. In the summer of 2008, Dad, an assistant cantor for many years in Conservative congregation, had begun Yonatan's training to read the Torah portion at his bar mitzvah service, but he had had to turn the job over to others as his health failed. When Yonatan came to see him, however, he was able to recite the entire portion to his great-grandfather, from memory, in a fine, clear baritone voice very like Abe's own. Dad was so proud of him, as were Yonatan's father, grandfather and I, who were all present.
And another memory, funny/bittersweet: Dad had really had no reason to buy a good suit for several years, but realized he should get one for the bar mitzvah. Even after he fell ill, he was determined that my brother-in-law should pick out a suit and we should arrange for a tailor to come and fit him for it. He stated firmly and often that he was GOING to be there, even if it was in a wheelchair with full oxygen. My brother-in-law noted at the funeral that one of the last things Dad said was to yell at Jack, "What are you waiting for? You have to get my suit for the bar mitzvah!" Yonatan responded, "Yes, well, I guess the suit will be white, now."
I'm glad that I have been able to be there for Esther, even though she still lives in their home 45 miles away with Jack, and his son, Craig, who both moved in with Abe & Esther after Jack's divorce several years ago. She, too, looked forward to the bar mitzvah, which my grandson handled wonderfully, and she enjoyed herself tremendously at both the service and the party, dressed in the outfit I insisted on taking her to get.
I also was able to arrange to get away for a week and took her to the Poconos, where we had all vacationed together every year for the last 17 years, so that she wasn't home for her first wedding anniversary without Dad in 73 years (not counting his service in World War II). We had a chance to bond even more thoroughly without the rest of the clan, and she came home rested and ready to deal with life again.
Then Jack needed "minor" laparoscopic surgery to reduce his prostrate gland at the beginning of December. Since he was the driver of that branch of the family, I arranged to get him to and from the hospital and to do the errands needed during his recovery, which was expected to be brief. What no one expected was that he would go into respiratory arrest 11 days after the surgery, nor were we prepared to learn that he had evidently had a "major" but silent heart attack in recent months and a clot in his leg that could cause another at any time. Jack was transferred from the local hospital to a heart center and had a triple bypass this last weekend. He'll need rehab and home care for months, Mom and Craig need me more than ever, and I haven't yet figured out how to do it all out in Suffolk County and still pick up my granddaughters from school in Queens four days a week.
I'm spending half my life in the car, and have almost no time for work, much to the detriment of the family budget. I'm writing this at 1 a.m. as sort of a therapy, too worried about all of details to be able to unwind and sleep easily. As my sister often says, it's "time to let go and let G'd."
