Sunday, March 4, 2018

A Year of Mourning - Haunting Me

Those of you who knew my father, know he loved to give us stuff. Whenever we drove home I would make lists of the things that accompanied us so I could tell customs exactly what we had to declare. We brought home looseleaf page reinforcements, glue, alcohol wipes, vitamins, comics (weeks and weeks of comics), spices, juice, shampoo, anything he overbought or came across. 

When we were in NJ for Daddy’s funeral, Keren came home with a bag he’d put together of comics he’d been saving since July. (He also saved newspapers for me to read even though I read most of them online.) This week, while cleaning after a multi-bathroom renovation, I discovered the comics, still here over three months later, divided between Gavi’s and Keren’s rooms. As I unpacked the bag from Keren’s room, still filled with comics, I discovered more: A small stuffed pill (from his dialysis center) saying “Meds Matter,” A machzor from 1931 (Dad’s been trying to pass these old siddurim and machzorim on for many years), a bag of buttons (the pin kind) mostly from charities and companies, but also ones that say, “Shalom,” “Bald is Beautiful,” and “Moynihan *88 Rally,” and a canister of Diamond kosher salt. 

Thanks Daddy for saying goodbye. I love you.UIKeyInputUpArrow

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