My mother was 20 when I was born, and she passed away at 69. Do the math; I knew her for 69 years—though one could argue that the first year or two, at least, can hardly be counted as knowing someone. I met my wife on Oct 30, 1977; I was 19. We became engaged on Dec 17. Of course I had met my future in-laws before Dec 17, but after that I was invited to family dinner every Sunday. I will, בעזרת השם, turn 69 this year. Do the math; I knew my mother-in-law for 69 years—all of which (except that last 18 hours or so of her life) were unarguably time of full awareness to know someone. I am as qualified as any, and more than most, to give you an honest perspective on a life well lived.
Since my mother-in-law's funeral was during Nissan, there were no eulogies. That is, speeches designed to bring the listeners to tears. I told those assembled that our tears are a comfort to the soul of the departed, as they can feel that they made a difference in this world. In this month, whose name means "miracles," the soul can get the same comfort seeing people inspired by their lives. (See another TftD coming soon, b'ezras HaShem on that, but now I want to focus on giving you a glimpse of my mother-in-law. May she rest in peace. Here is a synopsis of what I told them.
Until the last couple of years, my mother-in-law had a car with vanity plates. Her plates read, FXY BOBA (hot grandma, if you will). And that was how she presented. When you first met my mother-in-law, you immediately knew you were meeting a very confident and capable woman. She had poise and style. That was not a veneer; that was who she was. In case you somehow missed any of that, her boyfriend (who just turned 100 last summer) would fill you in.
When you walked into her home, you knew immediately the two things that meant the most to her. She was Jewish and she loved and was proud of her family. She lived to see grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She didn't just know them by pictures; she was involved with their lives. She saw the bar/bat mitzvah of three granddaughters and three grandsons; she was able to attend two of each. Her home was filled with pictures of her descendents. She had quite a collection of artwork, nearly all of which was Judaica. (She had a collection of dreidels that were all pure art; absolutely unusable for spinning 😂)
When you got to know her, though, then you really saw something. When my mother-in-law saw a need, she stepped in with full commitment. She grew up in Rockport, IL, one of six girls. She was the only one to finish through confirmation. The only one to marry a Jewish man. The only one to raise a Jewish family. From the earliest that my wife can remember until she left California, she was a Hebrew school teacher and headed the Religious Practices committee at her temple. She did everything she could do in order to be the best Jew she could according to what she had been taught. When she moved to a retirement community in Florida, she was the one who arranged for Friday night services (even wrote a synopsis of the parasha), High Holiday services, and a community Passover seder. When she was in her 50s, there was a granddaughter who needed a home. My mother-in-law took that 10-year-old granddaughter and raised her as her own. That's what I mean: when she saw a need, she stepped up; she was committed, and she saw it through.
When we celebrated our 40th weddding anniversary, my mother-in-law turned to me and said, "And they said it wouldn't last!" I said, "Mom... you were the one who said that." She laughed and said, "True, true." I really did grow up with her. She often called me her favorite son-in-law. At first it was followed by a laugh and "Of course, you are my only son-in-law." Over the years, though, I earned the right to actually be her favorite son-in-law and not just because I was the only one.
At some point after moving to Chicago, I learned that a person should refer to his in-laws the same way his spouse does. I went to R' Fuerst to confirm. "But, but..." I said, "I have always called my in-laws by their first names!" "Live and learn," replied the dayan. "Me or my in-laws?" "Both."
I did learn. She learned. And now I say with tears in my eyes, "Mom, we are really going to miss you."
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