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| Just before moving to Israel, 2006 |
When I was in kindergarten, I performed in a play. Both of my parents had to work and the only person that showed up was my Bubba. This 4ft. 9in. little lady exuded so much pride watching her five year old granddaughter perform some play for the rest of her class. I remember being the only person there with no parent present and yet I was the luckiest girl in the world because my Bubba came to watch me. I also remember going home with her and eating chicken soup. It was the highlight of my day.
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.
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| 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.
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| All the great-grand kids |
Last year, I received a phone call from my Dad telling me she had a stroke. His voice told me to stay where I was but his tone told me to come home. I caught the longest flight of my life and traveled for what felt like forever just to get home. I was three months pregnant. I was supposed to fly home a week later and we were going to tell everyone about the baby. She threw a wrench in my plans.
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.
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| Happy Anniversary |
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.
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| My Dad's Bar Mitzvah |
It's been one year since she passed away in the Gregorian calendar. There's not a day that goes by where I don't think about her and wish I could call to ask for advice. Sometimes I just want to hear her voice - but I hear it in my head.
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.
