20.



Dad fell

Received an email from my sister with subject saying 'dad fell.'   His hip is fractured and his heart rate is up and he is at NYU.  Later heard he might need a pin in the hip or hip replacement, dangerous at his age.

I paced up and down my apartment, back and forth.  What to do, what to do?  Yeah, I was in a panic.  Some of my thoughts went to dad.  Some were selfish about me.  I felt totally alone in the universe.  Things were swirling before this happened.  Now it's somewhere beyond.

I thought what about God?  Where is he in all this?  If talking to him is supposed to help, okay, help.  I need help.  I need help God. 

Then what came to my mind something like a ball of atomic light spreading rays, some before and above my head.  It wasn't disruptive but big and had a soothing weight.  I seemed to hear “This will all pass Steve.  It will work out.  You'll survive this.  It's not the end of the world.  It will smooth out.”

Naturally I calmed down a little bit.  I know, it could be all in my mind.  But then again, it could be real.  I take it as real.  It can't get realer than this.

19.

Dad

Happy Moment

I put this in the email last mailing but thought it deserves it's own post.  Towards the end of a conversation my dad left me with this;

'When you have a happy moment,
that is the most important thing.”

18.

One reward for a long life

I had sent the Cohanan for his 98th birthday a print of a self portrait call “drawing myself.”  While it has some flaws technically it does in a way sum me up as a person.  He already had a print of it but the print and the frame were a mess despite someone's efforts to piece it together.

Well, yesterday the Cohanan called to thank me.  He said words can't describe how good it felt to receive this.  His first complement went to my packing skills.  For some reason my family considers this important.  I can't remember his words exactly but he basically said the drawing captures all of me.  He added he was proud that I was a productive individual who was expressing himself.  More was said but I can't remember exactly what.  For the most part I listened and took it in.

My late mom was a bit gushy at times and this eventually rubbed off on my father.  His nature was more reserved and less emotive and he could be cold and disappear on you.  Whatever its genesis at this time it was nice to hear these words and I just listened.  For years the family dynamics were complex, somehow poisoning even simple dialogue.  But now after all these years simple appreciation was offered and then received.  It is one reward for his living a long life.

17.  Past


'In or out of the box’

I realize people can't get out of the box or often don't even know they're in one.  I might even be in my own box.  Maybe a better one, but still a box.  There are good and bad things in my box.  With this self awareness you understand other people and become patient because of this.  I was talking to a relative and became  very impatient with their rigidity.  Still, I had to realize he is trapped, marooned on his own island with no escape.  Humbly, maybe I am too.  When I am hurting, I wish I could escape.  Am I not trapped too?  We are all given parameters to work with and emerge from.  As my father would say, at least I am aware of it.

16.

The Cohanan, Yom Kippur, Prayer for mom 2015

A few nights before Yom Kippur when speaking to my dad he said he would call me Yom Kippur eve and we would say a prayer for mom and light the Yahrzeit candle at sunset.  Yom Kippur eve rolled around and I did not hear from my dad, at 6, 7, nor 8 pm.  My mind wandered and resentment overtook me.  How could he not call me when he gave his word to, especially to say a prayer for mom on Yom Kippur eve?  He probably forgot and/or is at my sister's apartment, and just passed over it .  The pleasures of socializing pushed me into the background as so many times before.  I, who through him also am a Cohanan, become robbed of that acknowledgment.  The lineage is once again ignored and food and partying take precedence. 

Then around 9pm he called and sounded tired.  He had walked about ½ mile, just with a cane, not his walker which was more supportive,  to an orthodox synagogue for services. He had just returned and did not have the energy to say the prayer.  He would call tomorrow.   Hmmmm.   I was relieved.  I then faintly recalled he had mentioned this. The resentment subsized.  The circular anger left.  I wondered why, after all these years of self examination, I was still on the edge.  It was almost as if it was a clear test from God.  Even though I seemed to have failed it, it seemed a clear sign, which there seem to be not many, that he was caring for me.

Anyhow, early on Yom Kippur day, around 10, before he went to synagogue, the Cohanan called and recited in Hebrew the prayer and I repeated it surprisingly well phrase by phrase.  The  Hebrew sounds were from the gut, just like Sanskrit, and caused vibrations in the entire body.  I felt a light in my head.  After that dad said mom is still with us and pleased .  I asked him to summarize Yom Kippur briefly and he said one prays for blessings and health for the coming year.

And for the moment all was good.

15.

After my birthday conversation with the Cohanan 

I received two birthday cards from the Cohanan, one with some cash in it, about $200.  Later, on the phone he said I should spend it for something I normally wouldn't.  I thanked him and said its enough to spend on a couple of things I normally wouldn't.  The two cards made it feel as if my remaining family was a little bigger than what is left.  On the cards he wrote that my mom sent her everlasting love.  That also made the family feel bigger.

During our phone call I thanked him for the cards, for including mom in them who had passed away 6  years before, and for the gift.  We talked about a few things.  For one I mentioned I found out more about Cohanans.  As we know it is a title passed from father to son going back to Mose's brother Aaron.  Cohanans are priests who give blessings.  In my research I heard the role of the Cohanan is described in Leviticus.  Now my mom's maiden name was Cohen. 

In the olden days people didn't have last names.  You were David of the parents so and so from the city of so and so.  If a person has Cohen for a last name it most probably means way back when a relative was probably a Cohanan, and the name Cohen honors that connection.  So I told dad this and he listened to some extent.

Then, skipping centuries and miles of subject matter, he said Erica Jong at 75 recently wrote a book and he will send me a review.  He said it will remind me of a certain period of time and back memory.  Her first book, Fear of Flying, sold millions of copies and brought sex to the table, so to speak.  He said I would enjoy reading the review.  Maybe he's right.  It will bring back an era.  It might ring a bell of some sort.  I let him say what he will and listen.  It's a bit surrealistic to say the least.

Now my dad can often disappoint. An uneasiness still exists between us.  He often promises things and doesn't follow through.  It was like this before he was elderly.  But this time the conversation took a special turn.  Towards the end of it he said, “way beneath all the layers that I(me) had a beautiful soul (I think the word was soul).  Then he added he was very proud of me.

True, words have been a little cheap in my family.  Still amidst all the doubts and questions and reaching I've been doing, this was extraordinary to hear and a good birthday present from a man of not that many words.  At this stage if something can be said and has some truth, say it.  Why hold back.  The Cohanan let it out.  It was a blessing from the Cohanan, which is what Cohanan's do.  My insides were warmed.