|Just before moving to Israel, 2006|
I would go visit my grandparents every year in their winter condo in Florida. I'd goof off with my Zeidy but I'd cry when it was time to leave my Bubba. I was a sensitive kid (putting it mildly) and the thought of not seeing her until April made me sad.
|Wedding Day, 1945|
She came to our concerts, recitals, and award ceremonies. She was there when I gave my first Holocaust lecture. She watched my wedding on my uncle's computer and cried watching me say my vows. She fed me. Clothed me. Told me I was the greatest sleeper as a child. She taught me to cook and to bake. She taught me how to run a household with an iron fist, even if you look like the sweetest woman in the world.
My Bubba wasn't charismatic. She wasn't posh or terribly involved in her looks. She wasn't a quiet woman who just stood by her husband's side.
She was a force to be reckoned with. She felt pride in how she looked. She worked along side her husband building a life, a business, and a home.
|All the great-grand kids|
I got to spend a few days with my grandmother before her passing. I slept at hospice during Shabbat so she wouldn't be alone. My sister slept there motzi-Shabbat to ensure the same thing. She stuck around long enough for every grandchild to say goodbye and she passed away peacefully on July 12, 2011. That day changed my life forever.
I gave the eulogy at her funeral and I have no idea how I did it. I found new hiding places in my parents' house during shiva so I didn't have to talk about my pregnancy, or my flight, or living in Israel. I only wanted to talk about my Bubba. I took comfort with my siblings and my cousins and then it was over. Life moved on.
I miss her on every holiday. I miss her every time I go to visit family for dinner. I miss her every time I look at photos. I miss her every time I see my son smile. I miss her every day.
|My Dad's Bar Mitzvah|
My grandmother lived a full life - even though a good 25% of it was living in hell. She was a survivor of the Holocaust and came out of the ashes to be a true warrior woman. While she didn't teach me grace, she did teach me compassion. She taught me to go after what I want. She taught me to be true to myself. She taught me that family matters.
Today, I am grateful for my grandmother - Lola Rubin (Leicha Teichman Rubin - לאה טייכמן רובין). May she live on in memory.