As a four year old, my best friend was an 80 year old woman; my grandma Lakie. Everyday, my dad brought me to her mid 20th century time capsule of an apartment, which I considered to be a second home. Every morning when I came, I saw her in a floral bright colored shmatta (old house dress in Yiddish) carpet sweeping the rug in the living room. Then, when she heard me open the door, I saw her short white hair, wrinkled face, and pleasant smile greet me. “Shalom khamudi, shalom boychik, ma nishma” (hello cutie, hello my boy, how are you) she said as I ran into her arms.
Everyday, I was enchanted with tales of her as a young girl, running through the streets and Jerusalem and the characters at the Shuk (market). My grandfather, alev hashalom (may he rest in peace in Hebrew) my namesake, who was the director of a children’s marching band, and had a strong passion for music. And the hardship of raising that little manyak (asshole in hebrew) who would become my dad.
The mix of Hebrew, Yiddish, and English she spoke remains music to my ears to this very day, my mama loshen, mother tongue in Yiddish, as she would say. One of the classics was “Ata rotze nosh?” (You want in Hebrew, a snack in yiddish) To this day, I can still hear her singing along to the catchy tunes of Shoshana Damari and Yaffa Yarkoni. Even during the period when my parents’ relationship was coming to a very severe and bitter end, and my dad became a much less frequent character in my life, my grandma became a source of normalcy, comfort, and stability that I couldn’t easily access at home. In that sense, I really did have an idyllic childhood. However, one day this would abruptly come to an end.
I remember it like it was yesterday, January 22, 2014 7:57 AM. I was in third grade that snowy morning, and my mom barged into the living room to wake me and my brothers up. I was very adamant about not attending school because I woke up late, and I dreaded walking to school by myself in the tundra of a New York City snowstorm. However, several minutes later, my mom received a call from my dad, who had since become friends, saying grandma was in the hospital, and therefore, we didn’t have to go to school that day. Relief flooded over me that we were released from school, and I got to spend time with my grandma. My dad apparently said that she fell off the bed that morning, and was in immense pain, not necessarily life threatening. Knowing that, in no particular rush, we headed over to Kings County Hospital to bring her home. When we arrived, some nurses pulled my parents aside while my brothers and I sat in the waiting room. I remember being very annoyed because I knew Grandma Lakie hated being in hospitals, and I knew that she just wanted to be home.
Then, the nurses called us into the room with my parents. I remember sitting on a velvet leather couch, with my dad on the phone with my uncle. Moments later, I started grabbing the arm of the chair and beginning to cry. I realized that this was it, I would never get to see her again. I would never get to hear her warm laugh when my dad tried to speak his regrettable Hebrew to her. I would never get to hear another oy vey or oy va voy from her. I would never get to hear her tell my dad “Gey kakn oyfn yam” (go shit in the ocean in Yiddish, a very common expression). I would never eat her food again. I would never see her wrinkled yet beautiful face ever again. That’s it, she’s gone, and I never even got to say goodbye. I never got to tell her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, and how empty I would feel without her.
Then, my dad pulled me out of the room into the hallway. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I remember tears almost coming down his eyes (the only time I’ve ever seen him cry) as he told me it was all going to be ok and that we will cope with this loss together as a family. Shortly after we returned to the room, I remember the doctor asking us if we wanted to see her, and that the rabbi was already there. A sheet covered her head, and continued weeping hopelessly.
After my grandma died, my family became closer than ever. To cope with the death of imenu ahuva (our beloved matriarch), we spent more time with each other, telling stories about the many ways she impacted us. And in particular, my dad became my closest friend. We had our little ongoing jokes that continued for years. I remember he would ask me what I learned in school, and I would always say “You know.” to which he would quickly reply, “No, I don’t know. That’s why I asked”. Or everytime he asked what I wanted for dinner, I would reply “I don’t know, what do we have?” I don’t think he ever understood their jokes, but I always found them funny. For many years, my dad and I became inseparable. We both realized that as Lakie’s two favorite men, we needed to stick together to honor her memory. While my mom was at work and my brothers became teenagers, too cool to even glance at their embarrassing younger brother, it felt as though it was me and my dad against the world.
During the period when I aged out of childhood and began the very arduous journey of adolescence, I began to prepare for my bar mitzvah.While simultaneously learning the Hebrew prayers and Torah portion, I had to write a speech about the values the portion, and how some important principles I follow in my own life. Immediately, I thought of my family. If it wasn’t for my grandmother, I wouldn’t have such a strong appreciation for my language and culture. And finally if not for my dad, what would I have. I wouldn’t have my determination, stubbornness, humor, enjoyment of life, desire to get out of the house and do things, to make great friends and cherish them for life, and many more. My Bar Mitzvah gave me the opportunity to reflect on the previous chapter of my life, and I stepped into the new one. I also came to the realization that the death of my grandmother made me appreciate my family and all they have provided me. I know that she would have been very proud to see me on the bima (stage) reading my haftorah. Although I still miss her everyday, and I always tell stories about her, with the love of my family, it has gotten a little easier to say Zey Gezunt (goodbye).
2 replies on “Teachable Moment”
You have a good story structured around the unfortunate event of your grandmother’s passing, and how that event brought your family closer together despite the shaky relationships that everyone had. I feel that you have a very psychological story that emphasizes the falling action of the story, building on something that has been lost. However, there are a couple of points I would like to make.
I think mentioning your mom and dad became friends again earlier in the 2nd paragraph may make it flow smoother.
Furthermore, after the second paragraph, everything feels a little rushed. Either condensing the small paragraphs into one that serves to fade in and out of memories, or keeping the thoughts separate but expanding on them could make your story flow better.
Also, keep in mind some of the things we discussed in the workshop about explaining or leaving out some details, such as your grandfather and father in the first paragraph. As it stands right now, I don’t feel like there is a lot of emotional depth behind these characters in terms of your connections to them because I feel like the pacing is too quick. I know there are a lot of family members that you want to include, and that there is a lot you learned from various individuals, but maybe (just as an idea to condense word count and make your story smoother) you could take the focus from your dad in the latter paragraphs and incorporate your whole family.
I would characterize the narrative as a humorous/ memoroly writing piece because it takes us down memory lane and gives a sense of dialogue in explaining how the events took place.The shape of the story makes sense in that the narrator expresses this deep compassion and delicacy that his Grandmother brought into his childhood even despite the lack of comfort he received at a certain point of time with his family. In the second-third paragraphs the expectations were clear and straight to the point. It gave us a clean cut understanding of how all his loss changed the way his family interacted for the better but he could have definitely emphasized how this led to his family getting closer and them bounding over the loss of knowing tomorrow is not promised. I feel that would have been a deep connection with the audience as the teachable moment because it draws them back to this great perception of his Grandmother’s characteristics. The dialogue between him and his grandmother from time to time would have been great to input because it will allow the audience to create a visualization of how those talks went and how it affected the narrator’s character in such great ways as mentioned. Also, adding dialogue between himself on that battle of not going to school and on what he was thinking on the concept of his grandma being in the hospital, with knowing that she dislikes them overall.
As far as grammar corrections you should read over the piece a little bit just to make sure some things are written the way you wanted because this can impact the audience’s understanding to connect with you.