I Never Thought…

How many times when I went to visit mourners have I heard the line: “I never thought he was going to die.” Or perhaps, its twin sister statement: “He wasn’t the type of person to die.” Many many times. And that is how I feel about my father.
Now who are we kidding? Do we think that any one of us will escape death? Intellectually perhaps not, but emotionally, contemplating death is something we would rather ignore and/or postpone. So much that by now I have probably lost half of my readers….
But when it comes to parents, I think there is something else in play. Our sages tell us that we should honor and fear our parents (which is a commandment of the Torah), not only as a mitzvah (commandment), but because if we do not honor them, if we can not be grateful for the life our parents gave us, we are unlikely to be grateful to G-d. In a way, our parents are our image of G-d. Indeed, usually a young child will “worship” his parents: they can do no wrong. As a father said to his friend: If you want to feel what worship is, have a son.
Now eventually we grow up, and unfortunately learn that our parents are human, and hopefully some where along the way, get a more sophisticated view of the Omnipresent. But somehow it seems that some of that uniqueness of our parents and their love for us, leads to our difficulty in accepting the reality that they are not here forever.
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I would like to add a word of advice to anyone who has parents who live far from them. I know of many cases where sons and daughters visit their parent when the parent is on their deathbed. Now there is nothing bad about that. But don’t wait for that. And if you have money to only visit rarely, go when your parents are well enough to enjoy your visit.
My Dad battled cancer three times over the last several years. When he got sick the third time, I resolved to go see him, despite the cost, as soon as I could. And even though he appeared to get better after a while, I went a year and a half ago to visit. I decided that I wanted to see him while we could enjoy each other’s company. We did a bit of walking together. He showed me a few of his favorite movies. We looked at family picture albums together. I am forever grateful that I did so. It was good for him, and healing for me.

If I had waited for him to get “really sick”, I would not have seen him at all.



My father with Ricki a year and a half ago.

The “Club”

One day about a week or two ago, I was out with Ricki, and we stopped to look at some books. I decided to purchase on book, and asked the storekeeper for the price. He noticed Ricki’s hearing aid, and asked if she had a cochlear implant. I said “No, it’s a regular hearing aid.”, and he looked disappointed. It turns out that he had a child slated to get a cochlear implant in the near future.
One of the nice things about having a child with a disability is the “club”. Parents have a tendency to give each other that “knowing nod” when they pass in the street, along with a smile. A few words, a smile, exchanged while in line at the dentist or physiotherapist. Sometimes even a discount at a store. The best is the way they treat your child…..like a person. Today I have to send Ricki with her brother to pick up her new eyeglasses. I can confidently send them alone, not only because my son knows how to manage, but because the store owner himself has a young adult son with Down syndrome. He knows just how to get her to cooperate, and never treats her condescendingly.

Where is Love?

Where is love?Does it fall from skies above?Is it underneath the willow treeThat I've been dreaming of?Where is she...who one I close my eyes to seewill I ever know the sweet, hellothat's meant for only me?

For any of you who have not heard this, or can’t place it, this is from the musical “Oliver!” I heard it when I was an older teen, at a production in my home town. Many times after that, I found myself humming this song (when out of the earshot of others- I was embarrassed that others would find me funny), wondering when I would find my own true love. (Actually, I guess the song was written about finding Oliver’s mom, but I took it towards the direction of romantic love.)
Mind you, this is not about physical relations. The thing that we all search for, more than anything, is “the sweet hello that’s meant for only me”. Whether we are kids coming home after a bad day at school, a young teen looking for their life’s partner, a spouse who wants to still feel loved and esteemed, or an older person living alone, hoping that his children still cherish him and their memories of him. We all need the balm and elixir of being important to others. We all need to feel valued.
One of the things I enjoy about my oldest son is the exuberance he receives his children with on their return home from school. Such a priceless treasure his sons receive.
Once I was on a bus, and saw a woman with four young children. She was talking, explaining, smiling, and enjoying the ride with them. The optimism, the energy she had simply spilled over. Just as an onlooker I was affected.
I have a friend who is a “giver”, always giving and doing for others. At a wedding I once met her mother, who was busy checking that all the baby carriages would be put in a safe place. I instantly realized EXACTLY where my friend had learned to care about others. I know that I often bless my parents for the gift of optimism that they raised me with; it has been one of my most valued possessions.
Its funny, but love, one of the most precious commodities around, can not be bought. Nor taken by force. It can only be given. So let us give, freely, unstintingly. Hope you have (or had) a good day today!