‘Baruch dayan emet” I thought as I heard the very sad news that Mr. G had died. Mr G.
was a kind man in our congregation who had seemed larger than life. When I would see him after services on Friday night, he always had a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye that matched his stature. He was a people person.
Talking with and about his children and mine, he sought me out and made sure whenever he saw me to tell me just how much he liked my latest column, which he frequently looked at before I even had a chance to see it in print. He clearly read it in its entirety, as he always had thoughtful questions or comments. He was possibly my column’s biggest fan.
One Friday night, I realized that I had not seen Mr. G. for a while in shul.
It was when I subsequently wrote to his son to see if all was okay that I discovered he was unwell. Inquiring as to whether he wanted visitors, I was sadly told just how sick he was. A week later, he passed away.
Mr. G was a special man, and I learned even more about just how special he was when I visited his children during shiva. They all felt so blessed to have been around him in his final days, and each had a great appreciation for that unexpected gift of time closer to the end.
I was treated to their trip down memory lane with a stack of family photo albums of the vacations and other times he spent with his children, grandchildren, and various other family members. What a legacy to leave behind. It was during his shiva, too, that I d.
