“Death is the Night Between Two Days”
…Rabbi Maurice Lamm
It has been a very long and very difficult 5 months since we celebrated my father’s 90th Birthday Party …you’ve read some of what has been going on in the previous post, and this post is just my personal way of saying “goodbye” and letting everyone know just a little more about this totally unique human being who is no longer with us physically but who will never leave us in spirit. He is resting in peace and will always be with us – My father- Davey (David) Scheiman, z”l (from the Hebrew “zichrono livracha” – “Of Blessed Memory”).
I don’t really know how to begin writing here, but I want to first say a few words about what defined him as a person, and then just share a few last memories of him from the past few months…
He was a man of very few words for sure, but there was never any doubt about how he felt in any situation. You just had to take one look at his face…and it was almost always, 99% of the time, smiling. (As in the picture above…taken 5 weeks before he passed and when he was already suffering terribly and spending all but ½ hour a day confined to bed, too weak to do anything and relying totally on others for all his needs). And the 1% of the time when something upset, angered, disturbed him, you just had to catch one glimpse of his face before running for cover!! There were also many glimpses of pain, despair, frustration, confusion and fear the last couple of months, but these were faces we had never seen before, which made them all the more disconcerting and frightening to us, as well as causing us deep sorrow and feelings of helplessness.
He was a man who despite very rarely saying anything about love, was the most loving person I have ever known. He loved life, he loved people (especially women), knowledge, (hence his great love for the computer and the world of unlimited information it offered him his last 6 years of life), loved fun, joking, fooling around games, challenges…and loved everything that came his way…good or bad…to the fullest. He never grew up…he was never childish (well sometimes) but always in touch with the child within…which made him especially great with kids who could never resist him. We owe him a special thank you for teaching us just how precious life is…And he was of course loved back by everyone who ever came in contact with him, even for a brief moment. No one would ever leave his presence without a smile on their face!
He loved each moment, clung to each moment, showing us all the importance of each moment…no matter how much pain and difficulty we may be going through, nothing is as precious as life. To be able to give just one more smile to a person and brighten his day-to say one more thing to bring a smile to another’s face…to give one more loving touch to someone. He lived each day with a passion-did each thing with passion and youthful enthusiasm-always seeking new challenges and new ideas. This kept him youthful in mind and spirit to the very last moment, despite the complete physical deterioration of his body.
And of course, the final essence of who he was, what defined him, was his being part of Judy/Davey…and teaching us all the meaning of true, undying love.
Just a few last memories:
- At his surprise 90th birthday party (see post “90 and still going strong”) he gave a moving speech, despite already being very frail and pain, about the blessing of each day he was given, and his love for my Mother….
- I had an old (65 years old to be precise) wedding film transferred to DVD and just before going into nursing care I showed it to him on his computer…the look of pure love, joy and sincere amazement at the wonder of the whole thing, as well as the tears in his eyes and his loving looks at my Mother sitting next to him, brought me to tears.
- The picture at the top of this post was taken on the last day he came down off the nursing floor…he asked for hot chocolate (as I said, the eternal little boy at heart) and so we went downstairs, got him a cup from the vending machine and went to sit outside for awhile. As we went through the lobby, he didn’t stop flirting with the women for a minute…and I don’t know who enjoyed it more…them or him (remember, they live in an assisted living place, 80 women, 5 men…and he was cute and loved to flirt until the end!)
- A few days later I challenged him to a game of checkers during his ½ hour sitting up time one day. As I have never once beaten him in all my 55 years of playing with him (he never let us win even as children), he easily agreed as he is not fond of loosing…to my GREAT surprise, and his great chagrin, I BEAT him! He suddenly began having trouble breathing, got chest pains, and had me scrambling for the nurse who gave him oxygen, something under his tongue, and got him back into bed. At which point he remarked “That was the only way of keeping you from beating me in a second game!!!”
- Just 10 days before he passed, and actually the last time he was out of bed, he had gotten up as there was a party to celebrate Succot (Jewish Holiday…ask for details if you would like them)…he was not in a very good mood, and for good reason due to exhaustion and pain, but when I asked if he wanted to go into the party he said very irreverently and in his usual joking style “Why would I want to go to the party…Will there be a strip tease?”….Said I didn’t know but would go ask…walked over to the lady in charge of the party and asked her and she of course laughed and said “I hadn’t considered it but will think about it”….and then came over to him….did a little private dance for him and he, in his wheelchair, barely able to move, danced with his shoulders and a twinkle in his eye, enjoying every moment…
And then our very last memories of him:
- A few days before he died I was giving him a back rub when he turned to me for a second and very uncharacteristically said “I love you”….
- And also a couple of days before his passing, when my mother came to sit with him, he looked at her and said “You look very nice today”….
- And then of course, at the moment he left us, we were both sitting with him, he was in a sort of coma, but when we arrived, I had my mother hold his hand and I stroked his head and cheeks, and he opened his eyes for a moment, moved his lips as if to say something, I assured him we were both there with him, he squeezed my mother’s hand, and that was it.
We were blessed to be with him at that moment, and he knew he was not alone when he left…or perhaps he had just waited for us to arrive to say his final goodbye.
He IS resting in peace…
