Our Adopted Grandfather

Moving my family to Israel meant my children grew up without any extended family. It was natural that the friends we made who had also left relatives behind became more than just friends. We shared each other’s joys, sorrows, and even kinfolk. Most of those overseas relatives were happy to let us adopt them. None illustrated that better than Saba Shmuel.

It was some twenty-five years ago when he forged a bond with my middle daughter. At that time he had six grandchildren living across the street from us and had no need of another little girl’s affection. Still, he accepted it warmly, even bringing her a gift once in a while on his many visits. To this day we have the Step Into Reading, Singing Sam, that he gave her on our bookshelf. A delightful story, it has been read over and over by my daughter and her siblings.

 As she became a teenager she grew bashful with Saba Shmuel, but that didn’t discourage him. He was thrilled to hear when she became engaged and sent her a wedding present. He continued to ask about her whenever I saw him until he had his stroke several years ago.

Soon afterwards his beloved wife died following a sudden illness. He was left without an anchor and his death is no surprise. Yet, it hurts. He’s one more, of many, who has died far away, on the other side of the ocean. I will not be at the funeral nor able to make an in-person shiva call. I never regret making Aliyah but sometimes the Old Country feels very far away.

I know, however, that Saba Shmuel, and all the others, aren’t really gone. Their bodies may be dead and buried but their souls aren’t affected by poor health nor memory loss. The best of them continue to live in our memories.  

As we recite in Yigdal: In the end of times He’ll send our messiah to redeem those who are waiting for His salvation. The dead will be revived with His abundant kindness.

I’m waiting for the day that we will all meet again.