Dear Grandma,
Many praises and thanks have been said about you and to you, to our great delight many of those were said to you directly, but there was something in your last days that only emphasized them.
For four whole days you parted from us and from your life, in a manner that could not be imagined more becoming and appropriate for you.
In your home- your fortress, on your bed, you decided on Friday morning with a clear mind, that you have had enough – you don't want medications, you don't want food and from a certain stage not even the oxygen. Everything was done according to your will.
In the morning hours the word spread around and from lunchtime the house was filled with members of the family, coming in one by one, bidding good bye, holding your hand. From the blur of the approaching end, you opened your eyes from time to time and with the rest of your strength you said short sentences, numbered, as if resonating a whole life.
"You have been here for a long time, have you eaten something?" you utter, and in my mind pass the thousands of meals I had here – soup, chicken, baked potatoes, French toast, Pesach bries, "I have eaten, everything is ok, grandma". Back to the silence. Children and grandchildren hold your hands from right and left. "I am sorry I am not so sociable" you whisper. "It is ok, grandma". The tears are choking. Card games into the night, heart to heart talks, laughs, grandchildren's weekend, granddaughter's meals, philosophical discussions, simple talks, mild interrogations, deep interrogations, games with the great grandchildren, Ladders and Ropes game, meals in restaurants, movies….. There was so much fun, you are allowed to rest. Quiet again. Someone sits on the armchair, a granddaughter holds your hand. "Who are the kids with"? you ask quietly. "At home, with their father".
I am a high-school sixteen year old girl – "where is mother? When is she coming back? Where are you going? What will you do? When will you come back? Sorke, leave her alone, you are asking too many questions. So what? I am only interested, you don't have a clue about anything….., Quiet. You are elevated on the pillows, your breaths are heavy. "Perhaps you want to turn on the television?" – "it is ok, grandma". I am ten years old, many uncles and grandchildren on the bed watching television, news, “Upstairs-Downstairs”, “Siba Lemesiba”, “Pretty Woman”; my kids are ten years old, watching television from the same bed.
Lyza arranges the blanket. The door opens, a head peeps in. A granddaughter gets up, a grandson sits down, holding your hand. You move with discomfort, you want to sit. "Do you want to drink something?" "I'll have tea". I am twenty five. Preparing for grandma a strong cup of tea with a little milk, and cutting a piece of cake – the cheese cake, the cinnamon cake, Tibi's cakes, – bring a number of slices…., quiet again. Someone leaves, the door closes. Discomfort… Stirring . Your hand is restless. Maybe we should hold her hand? No, look, she is playing. Your hand is moving back and forth – accords, scales. Mozart, Schumann, a concert piano, recital, concert, I haven't played yet today, pupils and exams, and grandma, can I have a piano lesson?….. Quiet again. The door opens. A cousin walks in, "you came to say good bye to me?" yes, Aunt. I am a child. The house is filled with family, relatives from South Africa, English, elegant uncles and aunts with smart hairdos, friends and pals, acquaintances. Come on girls, today we have visitors, help me arrange the veranda. Quiet. Members of the family hold your two hands on both sides.
"How are the kids?" "They are fine". I am young. How is it going? Do you have somebody? Are you a good student? What a pity you are not at the Reali School… On Saturday I will come to Tel Aviv, to help a little with the cupboards. Should I arrange a little at your place too? Quiet again, those sitting on the bed change places, whisper. Grandchildren come in, many people in the house, a huge family, the house, as if on its own, entertains them all, the balcony is filled. You wake up. "Take my credit card from my purse and go to the supermarket to buy food". "Ok, mother". You are more alert. "Now sing something for me", you ask. One of the grandchildren suggests the birthday song. "Let all the grandchildren come". The grandchildren assemble and sing the song (Sara Layne) which was written for your 90th birthday. You are so happy. So many grandchildren and great grandchildren, with each of whom you had a unique communication, his own way to look in the eye, a personal and unique memory, his own connection, each one unique and special for you, in his own way". Shall we have Kiddush in your room?" a mass Erev Hag Kiddush in your room. I am a girl, huge Pessach seders at home. Grandpa Lenny at the head of the table. Nights on mattresses, many gather for breakfast, Yom Kippur in Haifa, preparations for the reception.
"Mother, do you want to say something?" "Yes, you are so good, take care of yourselves and always stay together, and have no disagreements". "Ok, we will try". "Have no disagreements", "ok mother, no disagreements…" Quiet again, you are tired. It was emotional. Your breaths are quiet. You open your eyes. "What is written in the newspaper?" "We have not written yet, grandma", "what do you want us to write?" "You decide". Quiet. The heart aches. Longing overwhelms.
"Take care of yourselves, take care of the children", we will take care, we will.
Rest in peace . Blessed be your memory.
Keren