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
Bruce, eloquence defined. Beautiful and heartfelt; thank you for your kind words and loving memories.
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