Melancholy, baby

It's my birthday and I'll cry. Not because I want to, but because I miss my abba today.

Here's a picture of a different kind of birthday in happier times, and my dad doing what he did best.

Abba, we miss you too much.

Earned my CPA

I was really happy to learn today that I received my CPA license. Part of me thought, "I did it for my Dad and he's not here, so who cares." Of course, I didn't really earn my CPA license for my Dad. I earned it to take care of my family. But my Dad was supposed to be around so he could let me into the club for "Dads Who Take Care of Their Families". My Dad was such a great Dad that even though I did not receive a formal induction into the club, I will still take care of my family.

From a friend, by email to Nancy

Dear Nancy,

I just arrived for a short visit to YYY and ZZZ [names redacted]. The last time I was here was two years ago around Chanuka. At that time Avi was lively and supportive and intellectual and fun to be with.... and now he is no more. Only the memories of the few times I met him. These are some of them:

 * He came to my presentation at Har Tzeon on “Why did Moses break the tablets?” and he brought a tablet splitting device that cuts pills if you need only half a dose. It added a humorous touch to the morning.

 * He went out of his way to come to a talk I gave a seuda shlishit at Rabbi Kranz’ shul and asked stimulating questions (and saved me from embarrassment of having no questions and comments at the end). I think he came then with one of your sons.

* He was very encouraging and gave me boots when I was snowed in during a blizzard and I had to get from your house to Shamai’s apartment.

 * He was supportive when YYY and ZZZ were going through their trials and tribulations.

 I even have an email from him from last year when Prof. Roald Hoffmann was looking for an Orthodox Jewish scientist in the DC area. I can’t bring myself to delete it... it is as if it is a little remnant of him. He seemed to me young, which is why I am so taken aback at his petira.


 With belated condolences,

Shira

Dad

This post is dedicated to my older sister Chavi. She is kind enough to discuss baby health matters with my wife. And, of course, as new parents that is a thing that we are always scared about. I'm glad I can offer my wife, through no work of my own, the generosity of my sister. And I'm sure in more than one dimension Chavi's solicitude is inherited from my father.

----

I remember the day my father told me he had cancer. I was twenty and I must have been in University of Maryland. My father asked me to go on a walk with him. That was something we didn't do much, certainly not as a pair. (In later life I got my father on a few walks alone and that was the wisest thing I have ever done. If only I had done it more. But he balks at certain things with his kids. Complicated.). We walked around the Kersey block; it was a short walk. I can't remember anything specific of the conversation only that I was so angry at him for his tone. Everything he said about the cancer was spoken in a gentle, mild, fully-digested tone. Now that I am older, and I am a father who must work to dismiss anxieties around my daughter, I know it must have taken him hours/days/weeks of constant and uncomfortable reflection and meditation to distill that terrible news, that anxiety-twisting and gut-wrenching bunch of emotions, into an even and balanced explanation for his children. Though no doubt terrified, he refused to communicate off-centeredness to his family. A priority for him was that his family should continue, and not worry, especially over things out of our control.

I yelled or maybe complained. His tone was too even, maddeningly resigned. I quoted the poem by Dylan Thomas: "Rage against the dying of the light!" I can't imagine I made much sense. I was not a good communicator at that point in my life.

I know he took all my siblings on that same walk. He was very democratic sometimes.

Even though he reassured me that the doctors estimated that he would live "another five to thirty years," I began preparing for his death immediately. I spent many years feeling the impending shadow of his death. I thought I would be prepared, anyway. Pretty arrogant. When he died, as bad as he looked and as much as he was suffering, I could not have been more unprepared. Total shock, like a swoon. Sickness and death, how can you really prepare for them. How can I allow the people I love to die.

From the Bikur Cholim Committee

Dear Nancy, I did want to tell you two things: I still think of Avi with that perpetual big smile on his face and in his voice. The article you sent me long ago from the LA times was a real treasure. I brought an excerpt with me just yesterday for a bikur cholim training session I did at Ohev Shalom and people really responded to it. Thank you . All the best

Punny

I was walking home last week, and saw this t-shirt:

 (but on a young woman carrying a guitar case). It's a terrible pun, so my dad would have loved it. I wish I could call him and tell him about it; I almost forgot and tried to.

Rosh Hashana Second Day

Of course we think of Dad on Rosh Hashana. As a sort of joke to myself, what popped into my head after duchenin and walking back to the sanctuary on second day was "my father was the carrying kind of Levi, not the singing kind of Levi." Duchenin is the ritual where the Levites wash the hands of the Kohanim (Priests) before the priestly blessing. It only happens on holidays in America. I'm embarrassed to admit that I can't remember the last time I duchened alongside my father.

Besides ministrating to the Kohanim, the Levites principle duties were carrying the mishkan and singing/playing instruments on the steps of the Tabernacle. [You may correct my poor Torah knowledge where necessary]. Anyone who knew my father, bless his soul, knew that he had a bad voice. I mean, it was pretty terrible. I'll never forget those times he got carried away during Kabbalat Shabbat and would sing along. You know, of all the embarrassing things my Dad did, that wasn't one of them. I liked when he got carried away by the spirit of the prayer. I remember that about him, in his pew in Shomrai Emunah. And its why I have not been singing Kabbalat Shabbat since he passed even though it is my favorite thing about religious Judaism (and at some points in my life, the only thing).

My father was a burden-bearer. I see it clearly now that I have a daughter. Parents are burden-bearers. Maybe especially good fathers. Love for children really makes you able to carry heavy things and do unpleasant and otherwise unrewarding work for long periods of time. So that is why I see my father as a mishkan-carrier rather than a singer/guitar player.

Being a Levite has always been very meaningful to me. And that was passed through my Zayde, to my father, then to me. I'm not certain of the substantial duties that are involved with being a Levite, they probably no longer exist anymore except as ritual. But its somehow very important to my identity. Never had I spoken about it to my father even once...

Beautiful words from the Himmelfarbs

Memories of Avi
I wish you all condolences on the loss of your beloved husband and father.  Avi was a warm, intelligent and generous person, who welcomed us from the moment we moved into the neighborhood. I remember the many ways in which he was always welcoming and giving--He gave a warm hello whenever he saw us and offered invitations and introductions to every newcomer.  He gave medical emergency consultations and throat cultures along with giggles for every baby and small child. He provided commiseration about Pesach preparations along with delicious recipes (I regularly use his recipe for lamb stew.) He shared interesting news and commentary about world events. He always showed interest in the successes and well-being of our family and he regularly shared with us the love that he felt for his family and the pride he felt about the development and many accomplishments of his children.  I know that his memory is a blessing to all of you and to all of us who were fortunate to have known him for decades as friends and neighbors.
With warmest sympathy,
Sabine

It is a few months since Avi Z”L passed away.  The neighborhood is emptier, especially for us.   Seeing Avi around, or even knowing he was around when we didn’t see him, was a source of comfort.  It gave our connection to the street and the neighbors a warmer feeling, and his absence is strongly felt.  We remember with fondness and amazement the call we received in Columbus Ohio from Nancy, inviting us for our first Shabbat in Silver Spring.  Although, we had been to Kemp Mill for the 4th of July weekend and met numerous people, we had not met any Karkowskys;  so the invitation to us strangers seemed very kind.  Over the years, we learned that the “first Shabbos invitation” was being extended by your family to many people new to the community, which is even more impressive (and we were happy to know that the experience with us did not persuade you to discontinue this kindness ).
Avi’s generosity of spirit was always evident in shul as well.  I was continually surprised by how many people he knew, how he would run to find out how someone was doing because he was aware of something that was going on with that person or his family.  These connections went well beyond the connections we all have to our own age peers.  There was a real love for human beings and fellow Jews that knew no arbitrary age boundaries; and as mentioned at the funeral, there was the famous Karkowsky handshake for almost every child that got near him.  But more than that, every child got a big warm smile from Dr. Karkowsky.  It was genuine.  When our grandchildren were in town, Avi would ask to come in and see them.  If he had a big heart for others, it was doubly true for babies and little children. 
During the last several years, Avi and I would go for walks on Sunday.  Had I known that such opportunities would be so time-limited, I would have been more diligent about not passing up any chances to walk with him.  Our conversations were a chance to catch up on what everyone was doing.  He was so proud of his children and their accomplishments.  All of you!  After discussing with one another happenings and concerns in our children’s lives, he would say to me reassuringly (not that I needed it), “You have good kids.”  I would respond with, “You too!”  To which he would say in an elongated fashion, “I knooow.” 
It was also an opportunity to discuss anything else that came to mind, from work, to finances, to world politics.  We often didn’t agree on many of the issues raised, but the closeness we felt for each other allowed us to agree to disagree.
The one thing we never discussed was his cancer.   Consequently, we are still feeling the shock of the suddenness (to us at least) of his untimely departure.    Nevertheless, we are comforted by fond memories, and we hope all of you will be too. 
Yehi Zichro Baruch.
Fondly,
Chaim

from Rabbi Axelrod, a fellow "Brooklyn Boy"

In Brighton Beach... there were Summer Resorts with Boarding Houses and Bungalows which people rented to get FRISCHE LUFT much like the Bungalows in the Catskill  Mountains in NY, or closer to you the White Mts. Everyone went. Jews who were observant,secularized Chassidim and all seemed to get along well.... I lived across the Street from Lincoln HS and there was a strong sense of neighborhood. Neighbors cared for each other. We wished the Goyim HAPPY EASTER AND MERRY X-MAS  in front of their churches and they came to our Synagogues to wish us GUT Shabbos/Yom-Tov etc.

Your husband/father AH was a little kid when the Yeshivah in Coney Island closed down. I remember him although I’m older than he was coming to the Yeshivah of Brighton on Public Transportation the SURF AVE. B-36 Bus. Older students the Bernstein Brothers (Rabbi Bernstein’s sons AH) Rabbi Phil Polatoff ( A Talmud Chochum in Scranton, PA) Jerome Feller, Ira Langer,Billy Cohen Esq.  Morty Bluth M.D. Sheldon Fried and others would go with him on the Bus and walk him home from the Bus Stop which was quite a distance.

.....Although I never knew Avi for years, as an adult because I left NY in 1965)  I returned in 71 for a short while and in 75-76 he was long gone from the area. When I moved to Kemp Mill he  immediately recognized me and was shocked to see me as he thought that I passed away. I was a Chaplain for 20 plus years in the US ARMY and he had heard that my Helicopter was shot down in Viet-Nam which was true but luckily we were rescued in  minutes. I was also the last helicopter out of the Imperial City of Way on Easter Sunday during the last insurgency. He kept up with all the Chevrah we grew up with and we kept each other informed of their whereabouts. Of their Mazel-Tovs and Chas V’sholom their tragedies.

For more insight I recommend that you call Adina Friedman as she and her mother probably know much more about the “OLD NEIGHBORHOOD” and Fred can tell you about NIH.

Another email to Mom (Nancy)

I wanted to let you know that I think of your husband every day when I go into my building  and pass the 4th floor in the elevator on my way to my floor.  And with every person I pass I wonder if they knew him or worked with him. I would have been a consultant to his medical division (DCRP). In fact, I just completed a review for his division yesterday. It saddens me to know that I will never be able to work with him. I am eternally grateful for his help and generosity in helping me get an opportunity here. He was a true tzadik and is missed by so many.

Love,
S.

A memory, sent to Mom (Nancy) by email

One Shabbos as I was waiting in the lobby at Shomrai, Avi came up and spoke with me. He noticed a rash on my eldest son's face (this was about 27 or 25 years ago). He told me what it was (I forget the name) and that it was very contagious but the cream to cure it was inexpensive. He told me to call him after Shabbos and he would call the prescription into People's for me. I have never forgotten his kindness.

R.

Some of the eulogies for my father touched on his role as "Shabbos Doctor" in the community. I sometimes wonder how true that label is particularly in the last few decades when medical liability has gotten so complicated. I think he sometimes hesitated to give medical advice without the proper protocols in place. But people in the community did get comfort from knowing a doctor was nearby, at the very least he might say to go to the emergency room or to go home and not worry about it too much.

One Shabbos, Mr. Mandel (at the time Director of the Univ of Maryland Hillel and father of Kobe Mandel who was later murdered in Israel) brought his youngest son to our house on Shabbos. The boy was about four or five and it seems he had gotten a little red ring-shaped plastic toy stuck on his finger. You know how those plastic toys are, for some reason they'll slide down on the finger and over the knuckle but won't go back the other way. It looked awful silly but attempting to remove the toy was causing the boy great pain. The only alternative to my father's medical attention, I guess, was to wait until the end of Shabbos -- with the boy's finger stuck awkwardly in the air all the while-- and then crack it open.

Anyway, my father went into the kitchen and brought back some butter. He applied it until it melted and the little red toy slid off the finger immediately. It was a folksy way to solve a problem: less with medical know-how than with common sense and practicality. Like a small town community doctor might do.

I guess it runs in the family

This just happened at our bedtime routine:
Nadav, aged 2: Mama, I want to give you a kiss
[Thrilled, I present cheek]
Nadav: No, no, Mama. On your keppe {Yiddish for head}
{I present head and receive emphatic smack on top of my forehead}

Makes me think of my dad, the best keppe-kisser of them all.

Torah Study by Arnie Schwartz

Torah Study
Mishnah Masechet Parah
In Memory of Avi Karkowsky

When I joined many other family and friends of Avi to bless his memory with Limud Torah, I realized how rapidly the Mishnah sign-up list filled.  Only two Tractates were left when I checked the website.  I chose Maseschet Parah, dealing with the Parah Adumah and the ritual of tumah and taharah.  I know what Avi would have said. “Holy cow, how did you get Masechet Parah!  Schwartzie, were you the last one on the line?”  I would have replied that I know it’s a sacrifice, but somebody had to do it.

So paging through the Kahati edition with the Bartenura explications, I was rewarded by learning Halachah that appears no longer applicable for modern Jews…..but it became highly relevant when I reflect on Avi’s rich and wonderful but brief life.  I also have the advantage of knowing Avi from our MIT days and from our newborn kehilah at Anshei Fairmont, a wretched hovel that was home to a bunch of graduate students until their wives rescued them through marriage.  

Avi was the “glue”.  He made sure that things and people were connected.  He would remind us that we needed to make our arrangements for Shabbat in Brookline or Harvard Hillel, at least by Thursday night.  Avi appeared to monitor our scientific disputations so no one would take the arguments seriously and walk away hurt.  Avi made sure that dinners were never silent.  So the first thing I learned from Parah Adumah, which the Torah categorizes as a Chok and the Rabbis look for hints of meaning, is the communtarian aspect of the ritual.  The process, both complicated and mystical, causes some to become tahor and others to become tamay.  Why would anyone do this, especially for a stranger?  Avi, as a young pediatrican, could understand this dedication, tending to a small child through the night while explaining the process to total strangers called parents.  I could imagine a Second Temple event where Avi’s supportive and solicitous nature would permit some individual who was tamay and missed the Korban Pesach to become tahor in order to celebrate Pesach Sheni.  Meanwhile the participation renders Avi tamay.  Avi had a sense of community…..he was viscerally aware of those who needed some advice, support, a bad pun, or a ticklish handshake.  Avi’s glue would make connections and results would spring up anonymously.  

The Mishnah speaks about the age of animals appropriate for the korban.  One does not select an older animal (4 or 5 years) “mipneh ha’kavod”…..out of respect, for the sanctity of the altar.  Avi had a gift of being a barometer of mipneh ha’kavod.  He had an amazing talent for treating 4 year olds and full professors will the same respect and joy, looking for clues to discover the inner person.  Avi had a gift of enabling a sense of self-respect and dignity even in the face of loss or disappointment.  He had the reserve of holding back his own news while he relished in your good news or achievements.  He had abundant portions of kavod habriot, a respect for others and a respect for life.

As I concluded Masechet Parah, I marveled at how ritualistic law can remind us of human events and touch our sense of life and friendship.  My initial connection with Avi was with scientific study; how appropriate it continues with Limud Torah.  Thank you, Avi, for being a part of my life.  I have learned much.

Mayeer's remarks at the Shloshim Siyum

End of shloshim

Good evening!

I am speaking reluctantly and leading this Siyum only because Nancy asked me to.

On behalf of the entire family I would like to thank all of you whose efforts made this Siyum possible.  I would especially like to thank Avi and Shuli for hosting this Siyum.

A Siyum marks the end or completion of our task, but learning Torah is a task that is never complete, so we say the Hadran, a formalistic recitation celebrating our accomplishment and declaring our intention to return and repeat the task.

A special effort has been made to complete all Six orders of the Mishnayos,  in honor of Avi, within a short 30 day timeline, the 30th day, today, being the end of Shloshim, the second of three mourning periods. (Shiva, shloshim & the 12 month period observed for parents).   It took many volunteers to accomplish this Herculean task, but we all accomplished it together, and like "Mighty" Mouse WE  "Saved the day".

 We specifically do mishnayos rather than other works because the word mishna משנה״" consists of the same  hebrew letters as the hebrew word for soul, Nishama "נשמה" and our goal is to elevate Avi's soul by our learning.

I believe that each person's soul influenced the volume or mesechta that they volunteered to study for this occasion.  For instance, without much thought,  I chose Yivamos, a volume considered complicated by many but whose main topic deals with the death of a brother.  A childless brother who predeceases creates a bond between his wife or wives and his surviving paternal brother. This bond is known as a " zekukah" and creates numerous halachik complications and obligations for all parties involved.

Yet, to fully understand these complications an understanding of "family" and "human nature" is required, an attribute I believe Avi excelled at.

For those who participated, I invite you all to think about the choice of Mishnayos you made and how it affords you a connection to Avi.

On many occasions during my study of Yivamos,  I found it extraordinarily difficult to maintain my composure, as the main theme of a brother that predeceases, was too close for comfort.

Whenever my emotions took over I was eventually able to put my emotional pain aside by reminding  myself that our collective grief would pass and we will be able to celebrate Avi's life.  Today, with the end of Shloshim, we start that celebration with this Siyum and the Hadran.

The hadran is the formal recitation that precedes the special celebratory Kaddish.  This celebratory Kaddish is not a mourner's Kaddish, but one of celebration, praising G-d.

it is common practice for one person to say this Kaddish, after completion of the recitation of the hadran and for all present to respond.  I ask you in advance to respond having the elevation of Avi's neshama in mind, particularly before you respond to the phrase יהי שמי רבה״".

Prior to the Hadran I will complete the last Mishna in Yivamos  to formally complete our collective task.

Thank you all for joining us to celebrate Avi's life and to elevate his Neshama.

From a friend of a friend

Hi Chavi.

I don't know if you remember me, but we've met a few times over the
years, mostly through Sara M.  I work at the FDA now, and saw
the notice that your father had passed away and that your family was
encouraging employees to participate in the agency-wide blood
drive in his memory.  I just wanted you to know that I was inspired to
sign up to donate as a result of your family's request, and I will be
thinking of you all as I give.

I never met your father, but I first heard that he worked here when I
was at a meeting attended by one of his supervisees who was talking
about her wonderful boss Dr. Karkowsky.  It sounds like he was well
loved and respected and that his memory will be a blessing.  I am very
sorry for your family's loss.


- C.Z. 

Dad's Birthday

Today would have been Dad's 65th birthday. Unlike most people he got a kick out of getting older. I'm getting Dad what I usually get him which is: nothing. He never cared for birthdays much. That's a whole conversation unto itself. But it's another day to think about him.

Another blood drive - please participate!

As you may be aware, the husband of one of our regular blood donors, Avi Karkowsky, has passed away.

Donor Nancy Karkowsky has requested we dedicate our next Community Blood Mobile to Avi's memory.

Please make every effort to come and donate the Give of Life on:
Wednesday, 14AUG2013
between 3 and 8pm
at Congregation HarTzeon-AgudathAchim
(1840 University Blvd, Wheaton, MD).

You can sign up to donate by e-mailing LMN@juno.com (subject: Community Blood Drive) or phoning (301)933-0537.

The American Red Cross will be servicing our donation site
and providing a Kosher canteen for refreshment after giving your gift.
As usual, members of Montgomery-Cornerstone Masonic Lodge will also be supporting the event.

For a short bio on the home page of a blog which Nancy's daughter created and a Washington Post obituary:

Remembering Avi Karkowsky.
http://rememberingavikarkowsky.blogspot.com.


Looking forward to seeing you and your family/friends with rolled-up sleeves at the blood drive,
Louis

From an FDA Colleague

Hello

I'm a medical officer in FDA currently working in the metabolism and
endocrinology products division. When I joined the FDA 5 yars ago, I
was at DCRP. Avi was one of the most helpful mentors I've had and he
guided me through several aspects of the drug review process.  He even
took the trouble of giving my son games to play with when I brought
him into the office! He will certainly be missed as a friend and
colleague.

- SB

Some more pictures

Thanks to Josh for finding them all for me. They're from all over the place:

Happy at Malki and Jamie's wedding (2010)

Reading with Zayde

Removing the funny bone. 

 Already asleep (I think Z&H's wedding, right? I'm going by tie color.)

 Getting checked out by Nadav at Z&H's wedding

 Having a good time at Menachem and Anne's wedding

 An even better time with top hats! 

Reading the paper with Matan.

A sad day

Today is Tisha B'Av (the 9th of Av); it's a fast day for the Jewish people. It's a cultural and historical day of sadness, but the personal customs of mourning and shiva prevail. So for me, sitting on low chairs and feeling sad feels all too familiar, and too hard.

Then Manny and Anne's wedding photos arrived in my inbox. I took a few from the website to share here (I hope that's ok), because they made me less sad. But there are so, so many more that I hope they'll share when they're ready.

Here are two:

Insider tip: my dad loved babies. Here he is, dispensing that love. Look how happy he is! From the wedding photos, he seems to have spent most of the reception with Meirav in his arms. 

And of course, he loved his own babies the best. Standing under Menachem and Anne's chuppah (Purim-themed circus wedding, hence the awesome bow ties and crazy top hat). It's hard to believe that was only a little bit more than a year ago. 

A Friend's Email

My dear Malki, I was so sad to see your post earlier today about the loss of your father. I recall meeting him one time when he came to visit you during staff conference 2010 in Maryland...he seemed so kind and warm, and I remember how proud you were to introduce him to staff. I cannot possibly imagine what this weekend must feel like for you, but I hope that being with Jamie, Shai, your mom and siblings is giving you comfort and strength. Please know I am thinking of you, praying for your family, and sending much love your way.

Many, many hugs,

Joanna

a beautiful gift

From Naomi, my sister-in-law. 

In her words:

"A little something from Israel that will hopefully remind you of life and all its goodnesses - family, friends, cute babies, silly kids, good meals, memorable connections - whatever makes you smile in this sad time."

It's a beautiful bracelet. 

The Hebrew reads "chai", life. 

A condolence card, from friends who are also friends of friends, and who (in this small world) I also worked with when I was training in Boston. I found this so beautifully written and personal - almost poetry! - and I wanted to share it. 

Dear Chavi,
We were shocked and terribly saddened to have learned of your dear Father's passing.
It was as if we knew Avi Karkowsky forever. Arnie always seemed to place his name at the very top of the Anshe Fairmont Chevra. After a while, your Dad seemed to take on mythic proportions. When we finally crossed paths at Shomrai Emunah, we were not disappointed: your Dad's ebullience always added to our Shabbat delight. There was a predictable sequence to our conversations. Knowing of our Boston connections, he would pay due diligence to your many professional accomplishments. And then he would get down to tachlis. He would talk to us so very joyfully about your family and then with the most incredible pride - about you.
המקום ינחם אתכם בתוך שאר אבלי ציון וירושלים

Notes for Maryland Memorial

Here are notes for a speech I decided not to give at the Maryland memorial:

1. When I learned that my father had passed away. I took my beautiful daughter and I said to her, "I'm sorry you didn't get to meet your Zayde. He was a very nice man. He loved babies a lot."
2. Even though it is very sad (and unjust) for me that they didn't meet, I am in fact having trouble feeling sad. My baby's face is imprinted on my mind's eye. So every time I close my eyes to cry about my father I see the face of my baby. Then I have a short conversation with dad where he says something like: "You can't possibly be sad when you have a baby. Babies are so wonderful." I am having trouble fulfilling my emotional duties of feeling absolutely sad, but it is Dad's own fault.

These are secondary things I wanted to discuss with the risk of getting long winded. They can be skipped for brevity's sake.

1. These are two pieces of wisdom I remember from my father. #1: All babies are cute. and #2 You can cheat at Solitaire as long as you do it consistently.
2. I believe Dad was committed to service. His life was a model of commitment to the things he cared about. Family, community, the jewish people, Israel, America.
3. In the same way that he loved babies, he felt it important to join babies on their plane of existence: simplicity, purity, innocence.
3.5. (can be skipped if not respectful) Invite a child onto the stage and shake their hand like dad does.
4. One of his few vices (other than fatty foods and football) was Solitaire. But Solitaire was less of a vice than a holding pattern. He played Solitaire until someone needed him, needed his service. He was always waiting for people to need him.

5. In one of the last conversations I had with him, he offered his best metaphor for what a father is. He said: "A father is like the guidelines on the highway, making sure the child doesn't go off the road." After a few days of thinking about that, I called him back and said I thought a better metaphor was "A rock." That a father can always be counted on. When I think of dad I think of someone who spent his life streamlining his multi-dimensional emotions in order to represent himself as always trustworthy, predictable, good, always count-on-able, always there for his loved ones, concerned for meaningful things.
6. Should talk about Zayde and Bubbe too. But mostly Zayde since I sort of revere Zayde. And there are endless comparisons and distinctions between him and Dad. That monologue is mostly self-serving.

"

---------------------------
Extra comments added now by me:

Another piece of wisdom from my father I remembered: "If a person is smart, you can even give them a dictionary and they will find a way to be interested in it."

Bubbe was a small woman who was a force of nature. She was famous for being one of the hardest working people around and putting much of her family through school. She pushed her children to succeed. I believe that was one of the first generations of Jewish children who had professional doors open to them and my Bubbe would not let that opportunity pass. I can only imagine my father was a very special pupil. And unrelated fact: Dad got his Solitaire from her. She also volunteered tirelessly on behalf of Jewish causes. Unfortunately I have very few memories of her before she got sick with Alzheimer's when I was relatively young. I do remember once sleeping over in Coney Island (in that brown fold-out chair) and waking up as early as I could, the crack of dawn. There was Bubbe gargling at the sink and she fed me a bowl of cereal. I got the feeling you couldn't beat her at waking up early.

I did learn a lesson about how my father worked. When he was sick in the hospital, we had to unfortunately bear many challenges to his dignity. It was very upsetting to me personally and I don't see how to reconcile or forgive God. Terminal illness is really a challenge to religion and common sense. Dealing with my father, I learned much about how he dealt with his mother. It changes a person to have severe illness in a close family member. You really can't ever heal from it.

My Zayde was a very special person. He lives in my heart. He was extremely sensitive and quiet, shy shy and repelled by conflict. Very very gentle and peaceful. My strongest and greatest memories of childhood include sitting on his lap and hearing about the adventures of King David (me! even though David is only my middle name). Good Lord, could that man tell a story. Enrapture is the word, even with kids and adults flying every which way in a small apartment. It was all turned off. It's probably why I tried to become a writer. But there's no comparison. You simply can't capture the storytelling power of a loving Zayde with a trendy book. I also distinctly remember my younger siblings discovering his storytelling powers. He only had one lap and they were cuter than me. Very disappointed. Thank goodness his building had lots of elevators to break.

My sister Malki once told me a story: Zayde was visiting our family in Maryland and he started crying. Someone asked him why he was crying and he said: "Why are the children fighting so much?" It is hard to convey this story. As you know, all children really do is fight. We fought constantly, it was half of our familial communication. But even routine and mundane fighting among siblings hurt him deep down.

What did my Zayde eat? egg matzos, puffed rice, tuna fish. Almost nothing. What did he want to do with the money he saved up from his modest income/pension? Buy things for his wife. Give bonds to his grandchildren to help their future. My father never stopped reminding me about the money my Zayde had put away to help me buy my first home. So special for me to have people like that to count on in my life. Selfless people, always thinking of their children and grandchildren, their future. My first memory of him, when I first recognized him as my Zayde, he was asked to lead davening in shul, and I thought for many years he was a rabbi.

My father's gentleness, love of children and family, a quiet and modest way, kindness to others, and above all shalom bayis "peace in the home" these come from my Zayde. They were certainly different, but members of essentially the same type, a special kind of jewish father. The first time I saw my father cry I was very scared, and knew there was something Zayde-ish. It pained them, like a strike to the heart, to see their family in any pain.

A gift from the Greenfields (Josh's parents)

A generous gift to Magen David Adom. 

Thank you!

Condolence card, from a patient

Most of my patient will have had no idea that the last few months have been tough. But I have a few that I follow closely, with high-risk pregnancies near term, who I wanted to make sure did not feel abandoned.  So I told them I was having an ongoing family emergency and an illness. One of them gave me this today:

 "As you remember your dad..."

Dear Dr. Karkowsky

My husband and I are truly saddened by your loss and wish you and your family all the best.

Yours most sincerely

I told her that I would open it later because it makes me cry when people are nice to me. It was lovely even so, to be cared for by the people I try to care for. 

Condolence card

This is a beautiful condolence card from D., one of the amazing women who lovingly care for our kids during the day. Here is part of it:

Dearest Chavi;

I am truly sorry for your loss. You have been constantly on my mind the last few days because whenever we ask the twins "How is Mama?", they respond: "Mama is sad", and lately, "Mama is better". Your babies are so smart and so perceptive, but how profound your sorrow must be that your sweet babies have picked up on it.

Another Friend's Email

Hi Malki,

Just wanted to email sending love to you, Jamie, Shai and your family. 

We loved getting to know your dad at your wedding.  Even with all the guests and the tumult that comes with a simcha, he made time to get to know us and we felt very special in his company.  He adored you and it was so clear that you and your siblings were his cherished gifts.  I remember your dad's loving, easy, and warm smile.  I see that warmth in Shai's smile and it will always remind me of your dad.

May his memory be for a blessing.

Love,
Shosh

Some more photos

With a skeptical Meirav at Manny and Anne's wedding (March 2012)

Meirav is won over!

Juggling (I think at Manny and Anne's wedding)

Screen time with Matan and Meirav

Reading a classic with Matan

FDA Blood Drive

 There will be a blood drive in my father's honor later this month; information from the flyer below:

Abraham (Avi) Karkowsky passed away on June 22, after a prolonged illness. Avi had 30 years of government service, nearly all of that as a Medical Team Leader in the Division of Cardiovascular and Renal Products/ OND/CDER, where he trained scores of reviewers, championed a conservative view of drug development and politics, wrote scholarly reviews, and entertained us all with his gentlemanly manner and bad puns. Dr. Karkowsky devoted his life to saving lives. His family would like to encourage participation in the July 23, 2013 Blood Drive as a fitting tribute to his memory. To sign up, visit https://www.inovabloodsaves.org/. If you have not registered on the site, you will need to register as a donor. Our sponsor code 7511.

Pictures and memories from Marion and Bernie Muller

 Avi as witness ("eid") at the Muller's son Rafi's wedding tisch in Israel

Chavi,
The times that we shared with your mother and father are too numerous to list.   When our children were little, it mostly revolved around them.  You watch mine and I will watch yours.   You drive this carpool and we will drive the next.  Really special happy times in their innocent routines. As the kids grew up and we were left to go to shul on our own on Shabbos, I would look over to the men's section and see Bernie and Avi in their spot together, reviewing the week's news as well as davening as I wait for your mother to come in from Mrs. Arzouan's class.Your father would be glancing over to see if she had arrived.   Often, he came to the edge of the mechitza to discuss who would be joining for lunch or whether some newcomer guests had been located. Our Shabbos afternoons would sometimes be spent shmoozing before mincha at home or taking a walk.  Believe it or not, more than one conversation would revolve around menus for Yom Tov and work issues.  If you thought it was the men worrying about the office and the women sharing recipes, think again. When Rafi was married in Israel, Bernie and I were so excited to hear that Nancy and Avi would be coming to the wedding.  We already considered them like family but that sealed the deal!  Bernie got up from shiva for his mother
the day of the aufruf and your mother and father were there for us.  Seeing them at our simcha gave tremendous joy and comfort. Seeing pictures on this blog of your father at your family's simchas are heartwarming in the sense that his family was most precious to him.   May you draw comfort from the knowledge that he treasured  your mother and all of his children and grandchildren so much.   May you draw strength from each other during this difficult time.
With love and affection,

Marion and Bernie

from a friend who worked with Dad on the Chevra Kadisha

This was special because although we all knew that my father served on the chevra kedisha [Jewish burial society], I don't think we knew much about his experiences there. We knew that the work he did with them was not easy, and very important, and very sacred.


--------------------

Nancy,

I wanted to let you know how sorry I was to hear about Avi. I wanted to share some thoughts with you.

I can't remember a time when I had seen Avi, and was not greeted with his big smile, and a "how are you?" That question was always asked with a genuine tone and not just asking to make conversation. I remember when I had gotten engaged, and I had seen you guys at Barbara's house, and he was so happy to hear about future plans of marriage.

Aside from knowing Avi from Kemp Mill, I was very fortunate to spend several years  on a few different Chevra Kadisha teams with him. When I had first joined the Chevra Kadisha I was often afraid that I was much slower than the rest of the team, and was concerned that I would hold the team back. Avi had once noticed that, and pulled me aside one day, and assured me that I was a good fit, and being slow and careful was the right way to go. The care and concern that he showed towards the mais was a wonderful example for everyone in that room, no matter how many years of tahara experience they may have had. There was nothing more important to him than making sure the honor of the person was upheld to the highest degree.

I doubt there are many people (if any) who ever met Avi and did not walk away feeling good.  May his memory serve as a blessing for you, and your family. May we only share Simchas from now on.

Yoni

Email, from a friend

I ran into him shortly after I was kicked out of UMD for failing all my major requirements two semesters in a row. He told me that "some people are like fine wines, and just need a little time to mature." He made me feel like the king of the world when it was exceedingly difficult to smile. I hope I never forget that, and I wish I could tell him how much it meant to me.

- Eli Z.

Lovely contribution from the Millers

Thank you!

Pictures from Zev and Hasya's wedding

Captions by Z&H (I think)

So sweet. Such love. 

Love the goofy happy look on dad's face

  holding some random baby and LOVING it

 Party. Animals.

 What a great couple. I bet they like math.

 Cheeks!!

Mom looks so pretty.

One of Z's favorites

From a Family Friend:

I am deeply saddened by the loss of your father.  I have only fond childhood memories of him from the many hours I spent at your house. He was always there to lend a hand when we were sick and had an emergency (like sticking a bean up my nose) and he was always willing to see us at all hours of the day. For some reason what stands out most in my memories is his bushy mustache and the way he used to shake my hand really fast. 

I know I will be seeing you soon and I wish it could be under better circumstances. My mother and I are coordinating with the family but I want you to know that I am here for you for anything that you need. Sending lots of love to you and the whole family.

המקום ינחם אותכם תוך שער אבלי ציון וירושלים

from our neighbor, Bruce Shulman

Dear Avi:


There are several things I want you to know.

First, although part of you is now in Israel, the biggest part is still here in Kemp Mill - that part which is in my heart and that of all the others who know you so well.  That is precisely why I am writing this letter to you in the present tense.

You and I are something of an “odd couple.”  We both have the same basic values: Family comes first; honesty; hard work and improving the lives of others is mandatory, etc.  But we are also so different: You are an Orthodox scholarly Jew, while I am a more secular Conservative Jew; You dislike yard work while I relish it to take my mind off of other things; You are much more of an optimist than me.  You could care less whether things are not in their place, while I sometimes verge on obsessive/compulsive behavior to ensure things are neat and orderly.  In this respect, you are Oscar and I am Felix.

But, despite these differences, I have always had the utmost admiration, respect and yes, even love, for you.  You see, I would rather learn something from someone who is different  than learn nothing from someone who is just like me.  You set an example - you always have kind words for everyone; you always tell the corny jokes your father taught you; you never treat anyone rudely or with any degree of intolerance or disrespect, and; you always have a special smile and a really special handshake for any child who you meet.  Those are just a few of the things you taught me and a lot of other people.

I will miss a lot of things: The endless political discourse in which neither of us give even a nanometer, and which Susan attempts to cut short by pretending that someone needs me on the phone; sitting in the “crooked” sukkah on a sloping driveway trying very hard not to fall off of the seat, while enjoying every second of the family, the other company, and your wonderful cooking, and; talking about our children and our work, and how we are attempting to improve the world, even if it is just a little bit.

You are a very humble and private person.  You never talk about yourself.  We didn’t know what the illness was, but Susan and I have known for a long time that you are sick. We never press the issue, even when we can plainly see that your complexion is not right.  Instead, we merely ask how you are, and you always respond that everything is fine.  To do what you accomplish every day over 13 years is impossible while being sick.  You have so much of which to be proud. It speaks volumes about you to know that, even though you were sick at the time, you found the strength to visit with me during my mother’s shiva in March.  This was our last visit together, and there is no way I can thank you enough for fulfilling this mitzvah.

When it comes to family, you raised the best - all professionals including three doctors,   an accountant, a lawyer and another daughter working hard for Jewish causes.  They and their children are the future, and there is absolutely no doubt that the world will be a better place on their account.   Perhaps one of the doctors will find the “switch” that sometimes results in people, now four I have known, developing cancer and other deadly diseases after the body has undergone some sort of trauma.  If the body can turn a switch on, then just maybe man can turn it off.

  Nancy told us that you now need her to separate from you.  I can speak from my own experience and want to tell you that this is the hardest thing of all - even for someone as strong as she.  But to separate is not to forget.  The problem is to find the right balance between separation and not forgetting.  We honor and remember those who we love, who do right by others and who deserve G-d’s blessings.  We don’t honor or much remember the wicked, the selfish, or the greedy.  You are in the first category and, while you may not believe it, Nancy and the others here in Kemp Mill who know you will think about you every day for the rest of our lives - yes, that is the impression you have made.

Finally, don’t worry about Nancy and the kids.  We will take care of them all.  If they ever need anything, our houses are open.  We can accommodate guests, we can store things, take in the mail and newspapers and take out the trash, and even erect the sukkah.  And, most important, if they need anyone to talk to or just to listen, we will always be here.

Finally, just one more small thing - while I continue to think the planet is warming, I really do hope you are right because it will be so much easier on us all.  If so, I will be happy to let you have the last word.

All my love from your friend,

 Bruce

from friends, via email

I'm acting solely as a conduit to the blog, not an editor, so I'm posting these things verbatim. Thus: from friends, via email: 

Hi Nancy, I am so very sad for the departure of Avi, I hope our shared memories will help you recall some pleasant times.
I was around 23 years of age and the job at the South African Consulate that gave me my visa to stay in the USA had conveyed long ago that they would not countenance anyone leaving early on Fridays for the sake of Jewish orthodoxy. I lived in Queens and so needed a place for Shabbat and you and Avi were so very kind as to extend your hospitality.
You were a cute little dark haired ball of energy and Avi was kind and intellectual, taking turns with you at holding the sweetest baby girl. You explained that you'd taken upon yourselves to learn the Parshat together every Shabbat, and while I don't even remember which Parshat, I do remember how impressed I was with the curiosity and insight you both demonstrated, and so I thought that this lovely tradition might be possible in my own home, that is if I were ever fortunate enough to meet a willing fellow.
Well, the waiter I met, Nathan, still discusses Parshat with me every Shabbat, and much later, even when I bumped into the wonderful Karkowskys, I never quite forgot that cute young hospitable couple.
It was at Chana Leah Schwartz's Sheva Brachos over a year ago that I found myself slightly inebriated and sitting next to a community member well known to myself and Nathan. Shir Hamalot was about to begin, and the fellow next to me - your Hubby Avi - mentioned that I was an Aussie and he remembers being taught a Shir Hamalot version sung to the melody of the Aussie theme song 'Waltzing Matilda' by another young Aussie years ago. He also remembered that she was a vinyl shod vegetarian.
Bingo!! So you and Avi were that wonderful kind couple! And you were still singing Shir Hamalot to Waltzing Matilda! And Nathan and I are still discussing the Parshat every Shabbat! And I saw you all the time and never noticed the similarities between you and the younger yous? I'm terrible with names and besides, every Jewish name ends with a Sky or an Itz. We also discussed our memories of a wonderful overweight pediatrician who died much too young.
I am so  very happy that Avi was sober enough to put it together that  evening, and that I personally got to thank him and tell him my memories, and now I have yet another chance to repeat them.

With much much love and thanks, with a blessing that you should enjoy the life ahead and the family you both have built, Helen(nee Bennett)Moskowitz)

-------------------------------------------------------------------

My general memories of Avi is of a happy individual always smiling, eager to be friendly , and to spread humor and joy.
In the above mentioned sheva brachot  he started telling me about the law firm Howie Cheatam & Howe. He also told me that he started out getting his PhD in Pharmacology at Mount Sinai Medical School where I am an alumnus. He got it under Dr. Marian Orlowski. I had rotated through his lab and new him to be a kind gentleman. I did not know anything about his biography until Avi filled in the lacuna. He was a partisan during the war, and subsequently married a non-Jewish girl. He apparently grew up frum with a yeshiva background. He told Avi " You'll never be able to learn as much gemara as I have forgotten".
I didn't know Avi very well. I wish I had known him better. This is unfortunately a statement that always comes too late.
It was good seeing you at the shiva seeing you strengthened by your enormous family and the true Bais Nehman that you and Avi built; a testament to both Avi's and your greatness.
May his memory always bring joy to those who remember him.
Nathan Moskowitz

from a friend, via email

Dear Nancy, Karkowsky sibling/in laws, and grandkids,

So very sorry about the loss of your beloved husband/dad/grandfather. He was such a fixture in the shul, and I can’t imagine not seeing him on holidays. Often when I got distracted during davening (approximately every 5 minutes J), I’d look downstairs, and there was Dr. Karkowsky, greeting everyone young, old, kippa, sandals, black hat, and everybody in between. He always asked if I knew his kids. When I responded, yes I’ve known several of them for 20ish years, he excitedly gave updates on what was going on with your lives. He was so proud of all your accomplishments. He, along with your entire family, have created such a warm and welcoming environment for others, and I’m sure you all will continue for many years to come. Wishing you and your whole family strength and comfort. Hamakom yenachem etchem b'toch she'ar aveilei tzion v'yerushalayim.


-Dova

Pictures from Naomi Greenfield

From my sister-in-law, encompassing many years of happy events: 

from my twins' Brit/Baby Naming (April 2011)

from my twins' Brit/Baby Naming (April 2011)

Giving some extra love to the big brother (who looks so little here to me) and the little sister. (April 2011)

 Malki's wedding, August 2010

These last two are from Matan's fourth birthday party, September 2012. This is one of the last times my dad was able to visit us (I think they drove up once more after that, perhaps January?). In any case, look how happy they are!