Valentine’s Day Traditions Bring Tears and Healing

abby_admin Grief, Uncategorized 0 Comments

The last Valentine I made for Ben, in 2015.

I always loved Valentine’s Day. I have hand-made Valentine cards for as long as I can remember. My great-aunts and great-uncles, and of course my parents, aunt and grandma, saved all of them. As they’ve passed on, their collections of the cards I made for them made their way back to me so I would know that they were kept and treasured. Ben had his own collection, which I now revisit from time to time and on days like this. I see them as testaments to the love we all had for each other. But, I miss all of these people.

Now, Valentine’s Day is bittersweet but I still love the whole idea of Valentine’s Day. As I posted yesterday (click here for that post), my dad passed away the day before Valentine’s Day in 2014. I spent Valentine’s Day that year making his funeral arrangements. My dad’s birthday is the day after Valentine’s Day.

With Ben, our Valentine’s Day celebrations were often sweet and simple. He always knew that after I put him to bed, I would make a card and decorate the apartment, and he looked forward to his Valentine’s Day surprise. It added some whimsy to his homebound life.

I also remember the simple and sweet Valentine’s Days spent with Ben where we danced in the living room. Ben thought that he had to take me to a fancy restaurant, but he learned that I really preferred cozy celebrations at home. Dancing was an important part of our relationship and I miss that, too. I was unexpectedly reminded of those days today during class. I was showing my class the film Under The Same Moon. It’s a Spanish film which touches on vocabulary the students have learned as well as issues of immigration. It’s a beautiful little film and the students always love it. I forgot about a scene where two people dance and start to fall in love. It immediately took me back to my living room, where Ben and I always danced and I tried to learn how to dance a little bit of salsa. I thought about the song One Dance (click here to read about it) and how much it meant when Ben was in the hospital. I felt the tears coming and did not want to cry in class. At least the lights were off! I busied myself at my desk to avoid the scene- I’ve seen the film so many times I know many of the lines! Unfortunately, I was shaken for the rest of the day. I tried to cheer myself up by making my traditional rounds in class and the hallways with chocolate for my current and former students, as well as those I didn’t know and for my colleagues. Valentine’s Day is and should be a happy day of building community in the school and I love that. Still, I was emotional and on shaky ground. It’s those unanticipated jolts of grief that are the most unnerving.

Another Valentine’s Day tradition that I maintain is to visit my aunt Eleanor, who has Alzheimer’s Disease and is in a nursing home. She has declined to the point of being non-responsive and I was nervous about how the visit would go. When I arrived, she stared at me, but almost through me, without recognition or reaction. At a few points, she seemed to understand what I said, but she is nonverbal. She has no real quality of life anymore. It’s devastating to see. I sat quietly beside her for a while, placed the Valentine card with Tinker Bell’s picture and kissed her good bye. It broke my heart. I realize that I have been grieving the loss of our relationship for quite some time.

My aunt Eleanor with the only dog she ever loved, our Standard Schnauzer, Dulcie.

Despite the sadness of today, Valentine’s Day seems an appropriate day to spotlight with love these people whom I miss and treasured so much.

(L-R) Great-uncle Louie, Great-aunt “Tanta” Rosie, Great-Aunt Lillian, Grandma Dora, Great-Uncle Larry. Mid-1980s. I adored them all.

My mom and our Standard Schnauzer, Dulcie. Miss them both!

My dad, in one of his favorite photos, with our Miniature Schnauzer, Windy, at my Cornell graduation. Daddy liked to look serious, but he was quite the joker.

(L-R) Great-Uncle Davis, cousin Garry, who, at age 94, passed away just one month before Ben), and Great-Aunt “Tanta” Rosie.

My silly Ben with his buddy, Buzz.

Life has changed without all of these people, and although I lost many people that I loved and who loved me so much, I am fortunate and grateful to have had them in my life. I am also grateful to still be surrounded by much love. Crafts projects give me peace and inspiration, and I realized how important making Valentine cards was to me once I lost those closest to me. It was a way of showing and feeling so much love. For my older relatives, my cards were the only fun mail they received and I was the person of my generation who always reached out to them. I decided to continue to tap my inner child with my card-making tradition, giving them to special people in my life.

The holiday is different now, and, honestly, not as happy, but it does give me joy to show my love and appreciation for special people, in my craftsy way, and to share a special tradition that keeps Ben, my parents, grandma and great-aunts and great-uncles close. And, who knows? Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother said, “Even miracles take a little time,” so maybe a romantic Valentine’s Day will again happen for me.

I wish everyone a Happy Valentine’s Day filled with love and friendship, and a sprinkling of pixie dust!

Tinker Bell’s first Valentine card! Each card is a little different.

Six Years Missing My Dad

abby_admin Grief, Uncategorized 0 Comments

Today marks 6 years since my dad, Jacob, left this world. People might think this strange, but I still think about him every single day, remembering his humor, his advice, his kindness and his history lessons. I think about how upset he would be about the state of our country and its leadership, or lack thereof. He was a proud Marine, and a real patriot. He also loved history, particularly WW2, and he would definitely be reminding me that history does indeed repeat itself. As much as I miss him, I am relieved that he is not aggravating himself. There are so many times that I want to call my dad, to share a story, ask for his advice, hear him laugh. I still talk to him. Somehow, I know that he hears me, because sometimes he guides me to the answers.

February is probably my least favorite month because it is filled with lousy anniversaries. In particular, this is a difficult week because my dad died just two days before his birthday. I can’t help but relive the time he spent at the hospital and at the VA Hospice. I spent every day with him in the hospital and then commuted out to Long Island to visit him every day at the VA Hospice. It still bothers me that there was a terrible storm the day he died and all means of transportation were stopped so I could not get to him on that day. The nurse did put the phone to his ear, and although he was no conscious, I know that he heard me tell him that I loved him, that he was the best father and that it was okay if he was ready to go. I remember people from the staff telling me that I was my dad’s world. I did know that, and I am grateful that we took every opportunity to let each other know how much we loved each other way before he became ill. There were no things left unsaid. I am grateful to have had such a close relationship with him. I suppose the sharp pangs of grief and waves of sadness that permeate these days are testament to the love we had for each other. I like to think about it that way.

Added to this year’s sadness is that I lost my sweet cat, Disney, just one year ago, on February 7. I remember talking to her veterinarian, when it became clear that it was time for her to go and join Ben and my dad, that it might as well happen in February since it was already a terribly emotional month.

On the night that he died, I wrote notes about my relationship with my dad for the Rabbi to present at his funeral. It has become my tradition to revisit those notes on this date and I like to share them to let people know a little bit about him. Daddy would have said that he did not want any attention, but he deserves it.

My dad was a one-of-a-kind. He was so funny, so kind, so generous, but he liked you to think he was Archie Bunker. I don’t think he ever knew or believed how loved he was.

He was such a proud Marine. He wore his USMC cap so proudly and loved to run into other veterans and share stories. But I was his Private Benjamin. The first time I drove him to the VA out in Northport he just shook his head when I clapped and waved as the guard at the gate saluted us when I flashed Daddy’s VA card. Daddy saluted, shook his head and laughed.  Although he was not an observant Jew, his Marine Corps experience, where he was one of 3 Jews, gave him a sense of pride in his religion and he did not tolerate any discrimination, gaining the nickname of “that crazy Jew” because he would fight anyone who even looked like they were going to say anything derogatory. He trained down south during the days of segregation, and he remembered with sadness and contempt the way he was not allowed to sit on the bus with his African American USMC buddies and how disgusted he was by those attitudes because it was so different than up here.

He lived and breathed dogs but really loved all animals. When I was a little girl we used to read the Dog Breed book all the time. I knew every breed and I used to say that I couldn’t be Daddy’s daughter if I could not identify every kind of dog!  But, he took great pride in his dogs and Schnauzers were our breed. The whole neighborhood knew my dad as Dulcie’s dad. And we all lived by the motto of “love me love my dog.” He was delighted when a group of kids told their sister, who was afraid of Dulcie and making a bit of a scene, to “go inside if you don’t want to play with Dulcie” instead of telling Dulcie to go away. When he was selling our house, a real estate agent brashly told him to put the dog outside. He told her she could stand outside but the dog lived there. She left and never came back. My dad was fine with that! He used to leave messages for my cat when he knew she was alone and let her know that it was a grave injustice that her mommy left her alone.

He was so proud of me and excited that in 2010 I finally was able to launch my dream pet souvenir business and he loved helping me with ideas and business advice. Just last weekend Ben put pictures from a recent dog event I was asked to participate in on his iPad so I could show them to my dad. He loved to look at the pictures and was interested so in my life that he even knew my doggie friends by name.

He had such a good sense of humor and was also a prankster. He got such a kick out of calling companies to review their products or ask questions and having them send him coupons.  Once he called me laughing so hard about his call to Uncle Ben’s Rice. He drove the poor girl crazy asking about the measurements, explaining that his mother in law had always cooked for him but now he was on his own. She asked him to hold on and he heard her say, “I don’t know if this guy is sorry that his mother-in-law died, but I sure am!”

He liked teasing my grandmother, sometimes by pretending to sneak into the kitchen to steal her freshly made matzah balls, to the point where she started counting them! To this day when I bake the cookies and hamentashen she taught me to make, I count the number of each shape and/or flavor!

He loved to laugh and to make people laugh. His facial expressions were priceless. His humor made stressful situations tolerable. I remember giving him books on Jewish humor and how he would call me to read some of the jokes, laughing so hard with his cutest laugh. He called me when he was watching our favorite comedies to recount a scene as he was watching it, and his laughter was so contagious that it always made laugh. Some of our favorite quotes came from Mel Brooks’ “The History of the World: Part 1,” “Tootsie,” “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner” and “Hope and Glory.”

So hard to get him to pose seriously!

My dad loved history and military aviation. He knew so much about WW2. It was a challenge to find books about things he didn’t know, but he loved to read. I used to call him from Barnes and Noble and read the summaries of the new arrivals to see what he responded to. When there was someone or something that he didn’t know well, I knew I had a winner! Ben and I used to find documentaries for him and Ben would convert them to DVDs. He loved seeing footage he had never seen, and it wasn’t easy to find it!!!  And we had many, many discussions about history.

As much as he loved gadgets, he had no patience. While he screamed about the bad instructions, I constructed tv stands and bookshelves. FIOS drove him crazy. I got many frantic phone calls when he could not get the tv to work. Ben and I downloaded manuals with the remote layouts so we could walk him through possible solutions. Ironically, he was a master at his trade in heating/air conditioning and was incredibly good at home repairs, helping neighbors and families with boilers, clearing floods, making heating/A/C decisions. Even from the hospice he gave me the perfect solution for dealing with the radiator and my freezing apartment.

He was like a father to Ben, who has ALS/Lou Gehrig’s disease, and was always looking for any gadget that would make his life easier. And they often do!  I never had dinner with him where he didn’t order something for me to bring Ben, who cannot really get out very much at all any more. In the days when we did visit my dad, he would show Ben his gadgets, books and WW2 bullet casings and they would sit and talk about the wars. They both loved it.

I always knew how loved I was and I loved him. We used to speak maybe 5 or 7 times a day, sometimes to share what was on TV, or make each other laugh, or more recently, when he was living alone, I would remind him to eat and see how he felt every time I had a free period at school.  Because I was a Spanish teacher he started watching Spanish television and he would call and ask me what words meant. I used to joke with my students that he worked harder than they did. But, it also intrigued them that my dad cared so much about what I did. And that was an important life lesson for many of them.

He was a man who was so devoted to his family. He always said that he just loved to hear my mom and I giggle with my grandmother. He was so proud to send my mom to meet me in England, even though both of us were amazed at her inability to work a luggage cart! He took care of my grandma, his mother-in-law, driving to and from work in Brooklyn to Woodmere to drive her to the beauty parlor, wait for her to be finished, drive her home, and then go back to work. He was honored and almost humbled that Uncle Larry called him every single Friday. He really missed Uncle Larry. There isn’t a friend or a child of a friend of mine that he did not ask and care about.

He was generous and was more comfortable giving than receiving help.  He taught me by example to be kind, generous and compassionate and to have a sense of humor. I already miss the phone calls. But I am still talking to him.

I wore my camouflage pants today, along with a chain that he always wore. I miss and love you, Daddy. Semper Fi.