saying goodbye in Miami

02/11/2022

What actually happens when you lose someone who has been an important beloved and highly respected person in your life? For me, it was a bag of mixed emotions. My mother in law, Edith Deutschע״ה, passed away almost a year ago; we just sold the apartment where she and my father in law, Emery Deutschע״ה, spent almost 30 years in happy retirement. Apu, as we called him,a survivor, was a fabulous, talented and brilliant man, passed away almost 6 years ago. We miss him too. For the past two days, Bob and I have been wading through the material things they left behind. Anyu, as we called her, made sure not to leave a “mess” as she called it. She made sure that anything important to her was long ago distributed to loved ones by slowly divesting herself of her “things”. Anyu was always in control; it had to be she who determined the way things would roll out. She was the one who would ensure that after she was gone, there would only need to be a minor cleanup. And so it is. But not really, despite all of her efforts, we are slogging through years of accumulated memories and “stuff”. So much stuff. This begs the question; how much stuff does someone need? I know that I have piles and piles of accumulations that I have collected over the years; my weaknesses include, clothes, shoes and books; especially shoes and books. I have been blessed with daughters and granddaughters who wear my size clothes and shoes so that most often my things find new homes even though I may still want to wear or use them. But that’s okay, I love seeing family members “rock” what was once mine. So here I am finding myself looking at a combination of four suitcases and duffel bags that are packed and ready to bring back what I must have and need from Anyu’s stuff. Why? As a Holocaust survivor Anyu’s childhood was full of deprivation and starvation. It is often hard to imagine in this world of plenty that kind of level of need. How must it have felt for her to be so very cold and hungry? At 18, Anyu vowed that if she ever got out of the hell on earth that was her life, she would never allow herself to be deprived again. Whatever “nice” things or delicious foods she desired, would be hers. There was not a more stunning or grander hostess to be found in Brooklyn or Miami. An invitation to her table meant an abundance of delicious food, overflowing platters of every variety of meat or side dish and all served by the most charming, inquisitive, intelligent and delightful personality. If there was a reason to party, July 4th, New Year’s, holidays, Shabbat table, an invitation to her home was a coveted one. When she became a widow, she hosted “widow’s” meals with usually some lonely gentleman leading the kiddish and bentching honors. If there was a play, art exhibit, or special movie, Anyu would round up the widows with their walkers and wheelchairs for a night on the town. And, when there was no one who would be able to go with her, she would go herself. Someone choosing among her things who had come to get them commented when she held up a bright tangerine sweater for review, “Wow, she really was not shy about her clothing style.” True! Not about that or anything else. Bob and I dreaded closing this chapter. Going through her belongings, donating bags and bags and bags, was so very hard; as hard as we had imagined it would be. As we looked through old family photos, touched her dishes and found her handwritten speeches for every family simcha, we got the joy of spending time with her once again. And even though the apartment no longer houses them physically, Anyu and Apu's neshomot joined us for a final goodbye. When I unpack the duffels, maybe not right away, if I don’t remember why I just had to bring the things back to New York, I will find a family who would benefit. Anyu and Apu would like that. Wishing everyone a Shabbat Shalom from the 30th floor of a beautiful apartment; it is a warm sunny day in Miami. We are blessed with wonderful lifelong friends who have been hosting and supporting us on this difficult leg of the journey. We will hold tight the cherished memories that we made here with our departed loved ones; all of the rest is just stuff. May their neshomot be a blessing. ReplyForward