Today, Mother's Day, I attended the funeral of my friend. Having known her for over a decade, I can't recall how and where we first met. But from the very start, it felt like we had been old friends forever.
Esther was the child of Holocaust survivors. As such, she embraced that unique set of neuroses associated with Holocaust survivors and their children. Her voice tone was a gravelly whine that would have been enough to drive anyone crazy, which resounded with immeasurable grief. Yet, she was warmly courteous and respectful, and took interest in my life, as well as sharing hers. She never failed to phone me for every Jewish holiday to convey her good wishes.
She emitted a lifetime of grief, and the light of her life was her 2nd husband Barney. I never met Barney, and they often lived apart. Secretly, I said to myself that it would be difficult to live with Esther's grating voice 24/7, and distance makes the heart grow fonder.
Barney fell ill and had collapsed at their home in SoCal. Esther called me to share the news that he was in the hospital. She hadn't been feeling well but wanted to drive down to see him. I agreed to go with her, and be her alternate driver. Come the day we were to leave, Esther called me to cancel. Two weeks later, Barney had died. When she finally got there, she found his corpse guarded by the dogs in the garden several days after his demise. She had his body shipped for burial in St. Helena, and the headstone was finally ready 5 years later. Esther phoned me last week and 3 weeks ago to invite me to the unveiling of Barney's stone.
Many times, she told me about her cruel brother who wouldn't release her portion of the inheritance, and how he cheated her out of the apartments she used to manage. Eventually, she had to hire a lawyer and sue her brother to get her share released. He was not present when I joined Esther at the memorial of their mother's death. But he was there today, beside her pine box, bearing a masculine version of Esther's face but much taller. He was first to eulogize his sister. He spoke annoyingly long about how he neglected her as a child and, as a result, she got run over and injured. He professed that ever since then, he vowed to protect his little sister. The length of his eulogy was almost as if the more he talked, the more his guilt could be assuaged.
Esther often shared with me the grief of her divorce and how her X-husband has somehow turned her daughters against her. She had never even seen or met her grandchildren, and another one was soon on its way. Her daughters wouldn't talk to her. I convinced her how it was their problem and she need bear no guilt for having done anything wrong. I urged her to reach out to her daughters even though they might rebuff her advances. I encouraged her to keep trying, and finally she got through to one daughter, who invited her to Los Angeles to see her grandchildren. Seeing her grandchildren was one of Esther's greatest joys. And after a couple of years, she was on good terms with one daughter and in communication with the other. A great improvement!
Esther's oldest daughter got up to speak after Esther's brother. She spoke about what a treasure it has been these last 5 years to be sharing her life with her mother. Even her young son and daughter got up and spoke eloquent, heartfelt words about their grandmother. This daughter so resembled my best friend Alice, and she was warm and charming. She didn't look anything like Esther. Elder daughter was tall, with olive skin, brown eyes, thin lips, and an aquiline nose. Esther and her brother had northern European complexions with round noses, full lips and gray eyes. Elder daughter said she looked like her mother. I didn't see the resemblance. She warmly thanked me for my kind words when I bid her farewell.
Esther's 2nd daughter spoke about how their relationship had been "up and down" and how, now that she herself was a mother and wife, she understands how difficult it can be. She recalled how they would all fly here the last few years as Esther was on her death bed, and then she would recover, and not die. I realized that her main relationship was being at her mother's bedside at the time of death to claim her inheritance. This daughter was unable to look anyone in the eye, and kept turning her back to me after lunch when I was trying to bid them all goodbye.
Then there was Faith, who left the message on my phone about Esther's demise and the funeral. Esther and I both had issues with hoarding resulting in clutter. I had decided, years ago, that I would clean the clutter out of one "zone" of my house per year for Passover. Over the years, the clutter had dissipated and there were many wide open empty spaces to be seen in my domain between the remaining eyesores of clutter. But I was shocked at the level of clutter at Esther's house. Over time, we discussed it, and she decided to take it on. So, together, we worked on a corner of her kitchen. It didn't look like much when we were done, but a 10,000 mile journey begins with the first step. Esther realized how important it was to have someone else to help sort through the clutter, that she hired a helper, which led to Faith.
Faith is the daughter of a locksmith who had worked with Esther for years ever since she was managing the apartments in San Francisco. The locksmith also gave Esther a eulogy at the funeral. Faith lived with Esther the last few years helping like a nurse's aid and companion. She stated at the graveside that living with Esther was not always easy but was the best education a young person could have. Esther was so knowledgeable in law, as well as such a good and kind friend, Faith considered living with Esther to be a privilege.
Altogether, what this funeral meant to me was to demonstrate that it is our family and friends who give us the most fulfillment in our lives. And how it is a damn shame if you wait until after death to say the things you want to say to your mother. There's no time to waste in petty grievances, and it is urgent to shower the people we love with love.
Esther was the child of Holocaust survivors. As such, she embraced that unique set of neuroses associated with Holocaust survivors and their children. Her voice tone was a gravelly whine that would have been enough to drive anyone crazy, which resounded with immeasurable grief. Yet, she was warmly courteous and respectful, and took interest in my life, as well as sharing hers. She never failed to phone me for every Jewish holiday to convey her good wishes.
She emitted a lifetime of grief, and the light of her life was her 2nd husband Barney. I never met Barney, and they often lived apart. Secretly, I said to myself that it would be difficult to live with Esther's grating voice 24/7, and distance makes the heart grow fonder.
Barney fell ill and had collapsed at their home in SoCal. Esther called me to share the news that he was in the hospital. She hadn't been feeling well but wanted to drive down to see him. I agreed to go with her, and be her alternate driver. Come the day we were to leave, Esther called me to cancel. Two weeks later, Barney had died. When she finally got there, she found his corpse guarded by the dogs in the garden several days after his demise. She had his body shipped for burial in St. Helena, and the headstone was finally ready 5 years later. Esther phoned me last week and 3 weeks ago to invite me to the unveiling of Barney's stone.
Many times, she told me about her cruel brother who wouldn't release her portion of the inheritance, and how he cheated her out of the apartments she used to manage. Eventually, she had to hire a lawyer and sue her brother to get her share released. He was not present when I joined Esther at the memorial of their mother's death. But he was there today, beside her pine box, bearing a masculine version of Esther's face but much taller. He was first to eulogize his sister. He spoke annoyingly long about how he neglected her as a child and, as a result, she got run over and injured. He professed that ever since then, he vowed to protect his little sister. The length of his eulogy was almost as if the more he talked, the more his guilt could be assuaged.
Esther often shared with me the grief of her divorce and how her X-husband has somehow turned her daughters against her. She had never even seen or met her grandchildren, and another one was soon on its way. Her daughters wouldn't talk to her. I convinced her how it was their problem and she need bear no guilt for having done anything wrong. I urged her to reach out to her daughters even though they might rebuff her advances. I encouraged her to keep trying, and finally she got through to one daughter, who invited her to Los Angeles to see her grandchildren. Seeing her grandchildren was one of Esther's greatest joys. And after a couple of years, she was on good terms with one daughter and in communication with the other. A great improvement!
Esther's oldest daughter got up to speak after Esther's brother. She spoke about what a treasure it has been these last 5 years to be sharing her life with her mother. Even her young son and daughter got up and spoke eloquent, heartfelt words about their grandmother. This daughter so resembled my best friend Alice, and she was warm and charming. She didn't look anything like Esther. Elder daughter was tall, with olive skin, brown eyes, thin lips, and an aquiline nose. Esther and her brother had northern European complexions with round noses, full lips and gray eyes. Elder daughter said she looked like her mother. I didn't see the resemblance. She warmly thanked me for my kind words when I bid her farewell.
Esther's 2nd daughter spoke about how their relationship had been "up and down" and how, now that she herself was a mother and wife, she understands how difficult it can be. She recalled how they would all fly here the last few years as Esther was on her death bed, and then she would recover, and not die. I realized that her main relationship was being at her mother's bedside at the time of death to claim her inheritance. This daughter was unable to look anyone in the eye, and kept turning her back to me after lunch when I was trying to bid them all goodbye.
Then there was Faith, who left the message on my phone about Esther's demise and the funeral. Esther and I both had issues with hoarding resulting in clutter. I had decided, years ago, that I would clean the clutter out of one "zone" of my house per year for Passover. Over the years, the clutter had dissipated and there were many wide open empty spaces to be seen in my domain between the remaining eyesores of clutter. But I was shocked at the level of clutter at Esther's house. Over time, we discussed it, and she decided to take it on. So, together, we worked on a corner of her kitchen. It didn't look like much when we were done, but a 10,000 mile journey begins with the first step. Esther realized how important it was to have someone else to help sort through the clutter, that she hired a helper, which led to Faith.
Faith is the daughter of a locksmith who had worked with Esther for years ever since she was managing the apartments in San Francisco. The locksmith also gave Esther a eulogy at the funeral. Faith lived with Esther the last few years helping like a nurse's aid and companion. She stated at the graveside that living with Esther was not always easy but was the best education a young person could have. Esther was so knowledgeable in law, as well as such a good and kind friend, Faith considered living with Esther to be a privilege.
Altogether, what this funeral meant to me was to demonstrate that it is our family and friends who give us the most fulfillment in our lives. And how it is a damn shame if you wait until after death to say the things you want to say to your mother. There's no time to waste in petty grievances, and it is urgent to shower the people we love with love.
