They kicked me out of the room just now. Apparently, the hospital feels that there is more important stuff than my sitting there and staring at the screen with the colorful numbers and squiggly lines.
I have to say, they can do a better job on the screen. The colors are bland. It looks like I'm watching an Atari game of my mom's life. There has been technological advance on all fronts except for that monitor. That monitor and the blood pressure cuff. There is no way of checking out my health, other than through cutting off my circulation.
​
Visiting I'm Just in the Way of the Nurses
Care and love means getting in the way of medical staff. My job as a loving son is to sit in the room and make it harder for them to change the saline sack. "You want to pull out the respiratory tube, walk around me. I am a family member. I love her."
I get it now. Their job is to save a life. I'm family. My job is to get in the way of that.

Family and Prayer Is Important
I think the physicians and nurses understand the importance of family. But they got this ego in the hospital, like they know what's best. They claim their eight years of medical school means they know about health. 
It is tough getting the message across, that your being there, talking to your loved one, not letting them sleep, is important. Especially when they think they're the ones saving them, with invasive surgery. And by the way, invasive surgery is invasive. Just letting you know that. It's a little rude.
It is tough explaining how important your prayers are, telling them, "I appreciate your understanding of the human heart and how it works, but I am saying Tehillim (psalms prayer) over here. So don't worry about the heart right now. I got it." I followed that up the other day with a, "We all like to think we know what is best? Don’t we?!... How about, you do your job, and I will do mine. You focus on the surgery. I will focus on Tehillim. Gd..." 
They get a bit skeptical when they're caring for the one you are praying for and have protocol from the doctor which tells them that this is how you save their life. And the doctor did not put Tehillim in there.

I Don't Need Medical Proof
I know my loved one can hear.
They think they can't hear because they're loading them with morphine, yelling at them, and getting no response. Is it the screaming or morphine that's making them woozy. We don't know.
I don't need science to prove my facts. And it makes my argument make a lot more sense. And now I'm starting to feel like I'm a supporter of Candace Owens. And that is the proof that my being here is important.
What I'm saying is that if you care about someone and you give them time and love, you will see stuff the doctors don't. And to that, everybody will think you're crazy. But you're normal. As a loved one, the only thing you can't see clearly is the screen. That blood pressure heart monitor has got to be updated.

Conclusion
I'm annoying. And that is love. That is care. Love gets in the way of the nurses. Care and love get in the way of people who can help. That is family protocol.

I'm going back into the room now, to sit in my chair, say some prayers, and to see if they fixed that screen.
That chair is so uncomfortable. They got a Geri chair in there right now. I believe it's there to get me out. I'm slipping all day. Geri chairs are the most uncomfortable thing I've ever sat on. And the footrest is not helping. It's just more room to slip.
These are the chairs they stick geriatric people in, who can't move. I've never seen nursing home resident not falling out. It's impossible to sit up in these. ​I got a stomach cramp trying to not slide out.
They've got to raise the footrest on these. Give some pushback against the slide. But of course, the medical staff knows best. They know how to slice open a heart and surgerise it, but they can't figure out how to make a chair that people won't slip out of. Only love can figure that out.

The medical staff wants us out. They have a job to do. And we have a job to do too. We have to pray. We have to show love. We have to get in their way.
We all have our place. Our being there for our loved ones is just as important, to get in the way of the nursing staff. To ask questions about the screen.
I still have some questions the nurse has not answered. The screen says "120." I don't like that number.

We need a Tehillim group in the ER. Got the doctors, nurses, social workers. Need Tehillim readers. I am sure if I called a Tehillim reader, they would come and answer my questions about the squiggly numbers. They would be there with me, to complain about the chance of survival screen.
The medical staff better hope we don’t relocate a rebbe’s grave to outside the hospital. All the Tehillim there will get in the way of the ER.

Yes. I have a lot of questions about that screen with the lines going up and down, telling me the chances of life.
There is no way I will ever get a heart monitor. All I would do is stare at it. I have things I have to do with my day, and there is no way I would ever get in my groceries if I was looking at that thing.
 
***Thoughts From a Waiting Room are thoughts revisited from 2019-2020 in 2026 form. LRefuah Sheleyma LKol HaCholim and shared laughter with their family and friends, bZchut Avi HaRav Yeshaya Ben Yechezkel HaLevi ZT"L vImi HaRabbanit Necha Bat Chayim Zeydel A"H LAliyat Nishmatam.

It’s been another year and I’ve accomplished very little. I hope I'm doing my father A"H proud. Accomplishing as little as I can.
And it's another year that I've been out of Yerushalayim. Jerusalem, for those who are committed to English. And I ask if I'm living each moment to the fullest. Living it. Loving it.

Everything was a big moment with my father. Especially when it came to prepping my hair for any Simcha. I hated celebrating happiness. The time spent trying to keep down my cowlick. The amount of Dep necessary to look respectable for the family. The frustration and lack of understanding coming through the comb to that one strand of hair. You couldn’t keep the thing down.
Abba lived each moment. Lived it for importance. It wasn't just dinner. It was a ritual. One I never learned about, but it was a ritual. An experience. Whitefish with Abba. A bonding experience one could only value as a child of a great Jew. We never fished. Jewish fathers and sons don't bond over fishing. We bond over Whitefish and lox. Going out for a slice of pizza was an event. For some it's a slice of pizza. For us, it was a celebration of life. Abba got his money's worth on that pizza. No toppings. And we loved it. It was a thing. Everything you did with my father was a thing. A trip to Toronto. Amazing with Abba. He even made Toronto fun. Do you know how hard that is to do.
Abba lived and he loved. You go anywhere it was a thing. Especially when we were in Jerusalem. It was an experience. A gift of life.
Abba would always say, "In Jerusalem, Gd is your tour guide." And we saved a lot of money on tour guides. 

My father lived. It was an experience with Abba. Everybody misses experiences with my dad. Funerals. What a great experience with Abba. He made a funeral amazing. A thing. He made it Kedusha. Holy.
People pass through life. Abba lived it. 
Damn I miss Abba. I miss my dad. Let's do a few words of Torah. Damnit.

Dvar Torah Part 
Moshe wants to be in Israel. Jerusalem. He says to Gd, (Devarim 3:25) "Please let me cross over and see the good land on the other side of the Jordan, the good mountain..." He wasn’t asking for a Tiyul. It’s wasn’t a hike. He wasn’t looking to go to tubing down the Jordan River. He wanted to go to for the goodness. Some people live for these hikes, like they heard Israel has great mountains.
It’s not the Jerusalem fun time playhouse. Moshe wanted to see “the good mountain...” Rashi says this good mountain is Yerushalayim. Moshe wanted to see Jerusalem. He wasn't asking H' for the Catskills. You see Yerushalayim, great real estate. Great breathing air. Excellent falafel. Doable apartments. You’ve got to see it. You want to see it. Moshe wanted to see it for the connection. The Kedusha. The holiness. Moshe wanted to see the goodness. And Abba saw the goodness.
Abba wasn't into hiking. We drove. Made it easier to see the goodness of Israel, hydrated.

Abba would come to Yerushalayim and connect with H’. Jews end up in the Catskills because they don’t know good mountains. You hear Mountains and you think Monticello. It’s Israel the Torah is talking about. Abba loved the Catskills too. That was a Jewish experience. As a kid, I thought that was the land of the Jews. I couldn't imagine we were promised any other land.
The Catskills were great, and Abba loved it. But the goodness of connecting to H’, the land, the people, Abba brought that to Yerushalayim. Living the holy experience was a greater level of goodness than Liberty Pizza.

When praying for this Jerusalem, (Devarim 3:23) Moshe starts by saying to the people, "And I entreated to H' at this time." I have no idea what entreats means. I'm not a linguist. 
Rashi says the Shoresh, root, of VaEtchanan is Chanun, compassion. And every time that word Chanun is used it is asking for a gift. A free gift. Israel is a gift. And Moshe was asking to be in Israel. For that free gift. For that thing he is not deserving of. The experience. And all you anti-Semites heard was "free."
With Abba, seeing anti-Semites was an experience. So many beautiful memories.
Israel is a free gift. Which is what all these kids nowadays think. Going on Birthright. Spending nothing. Free trip to Israel. Only people paying are me, getting price gouged by EL AL.

When we pray it's for Israel, we're praying for a gift. A free gift.
Congregants think they deserve. You want Kiddish. You think you deserve it. You don't appreciate it. You don't appreciate Kichel. Abba appreciated Kichel. Kichel and herring. And lox and whitefish. Abba appreciated it. It was a free gift from Gd. He loved it. Celebrated it.
​People pray for family too. They want a spouse. Some marriages are not as bad as the ones you see at shul. Marriage is a gift. Not a good one for most. But it’s a gift. To have somebody you love. My parents marriage was a gift. Abba knew it. He appreciated it.

Moshe wanted a chance to live the good. To experience. Almost there and he didn't get to see it. Abba lived it. B"H. And that made him happy. Thanks to EL AL and their price gouging. Abba wasn't happy about that. 
He prayed for the gift. Abba prayed for Israel. He loved it. He saw the Good Mountain. He saw the Good Land. And he made it good.

Now that I tried the Dvar Torah thing. 
Israel is a gift. Even just to see it. Yerusahalayim is the place.

Abba saw Israel as good. As a gift. And there are Jews who see Gaza. They see war. Meraglim. Israelis see a beautiful land. Abba saw it as beautiful. Life. I had to say something about the Meraglim, the Jewish spies and haters of their own people who voted for Mamdani. Abba would appreciate that. Nachis from his son.

When you see it as a gift, you're thankful. you enjoy it.
 
Jerusalem
Abba saw it as a gift. He didn't take the Kedusha, the holiness, for granted. As such, it was an amazing experience. Every time. That's what happens when you appreciate whatever comes your way.
Yerushalayim with my father, A”H, was an experience. Magical. He had a smile when he was there. Being with his people. With Gd. Not being around the congregants. That's a gift.

When he saw his community there, it was all joyful. Like a Geula. Redemption. Something you plead for from Gd. Unity. Oneness of the nation. Abba brought that. An experience unlike any. A continuum of community from his childhood.
Seeing his congregants. Abba kept in touch with people. Even congregants. In Israel, he would visit them. In Israel it was a gift to see the congregants. As long as he didn't have to see them at shul. Seeing them anywhere outside of shul is a pleasure.
His childhood friends, his Yeshiva friends, his congregant friends. All friends. All there taking in the gift of Melech HaFelafel. The Mountain of Jerusalem and 5 shekel felafel.

Coming to my club and making everybody feel good. Caring about the people more than they had anybody caring about them in years. They all remembered that experience. They saw the gift.

He called people together in Yerushalayim. He was the leader. Like Aaron, bringing Shalom. He wanted to be with the people and H’. Everybody remembers the big get-togethers.
He actually cared. He knew it was all a gift. And he passed on that gift.
 
Any Kotel visit with Abba was an experience. And Abba knew the guy. Even if he didn’t. He knew them. Which could be awkward, but great. He brought his smile and joy everywhere he went.

Shawarma with Abba. No greater happiness other than a burger and a steak. The Shipud places. Loved the skewers.
People go to all of these Kosher heaven places. Abba lived them. Abba made eating a Shawarma a holy experience.

We would go all over Israel. Loved it all. Felt the gift of the good land.
He loved all of Israel. Tzfat, Eilat, Tiveria, Boca. Abba loved any place that was warm. Places where you can drive and not catch a draft. Abba didn't like drafts. Didn't like car windows down. 
And Tiveria falafel. Nothing better. The Tosafot. They had all those extras down.

It was an experience. Life. Abba enjoyed each moment. He lived it. He prayed to H' for it. He realized it was all a gift.
We should be Zoyche to recognize this gift that Moshe wasn't granted while we're in this Olam. To live and celebrate it.
 
Damn. I miss Yerushalayim with my parents, A"H. I can set the temperature in the car to cold now, but I miss it. I miss that gift. The celebration of the Good Mountain that they brought.
I miss them paying for dinner. Every time they paid for dinner, that was a free gift.

Lessons I Learned from Abba this Yahrzeit
Stop thinking you deserve stuff, and you will experience the gifts of Gd. Israel. Jerusalem. The good Shawarma.
Gd is an amazing tour guide. And He's cheaper than Tzachi. And you end up meeting people when Gd is your tour guide. You celebrate them.
 
Abba lived each moment to its fullest, because he saw it all as a gift. He was thankful to H’. He appreciated it. And that is why every moment with Abba was a celebration. We were blessed to have that experience of being in Israel with Abba.

I have to see the free gift. To appreciate Israel and Jerusalem for what it is. To appreciate life more. Even if school taxes coming up.
Abba wanted to be in Yerushalayim. Everything changed when he was there. He saw it all as a gift and he wanted to see more of it. But this world doesn't always allow for that. Got to cherish the gifts. We don't get them in the physical world forever.
Been away from Yerusahalayim for a while here. I’ve got to turn that corner and see the Good Mountain again. To appreciate the gift I had, and to appreciate it now.
 
I don’t appreciate EL AL. Ripping us off.  EL AL has got to being down the cost on these flights. It's crazy. Since all the COVID and war stuff, EL AL has been banking, pulling in a lot of money off people who see Israel as a gift.

Having Abba and Mommy was a gift. I entreat every day for their presence. To see them. If that makes sense. I still have no idea what entreat means.
Life was a gift and he was thankful to H'. As was my Mom. It's a gift to be around holy people like that.

I stopped saying ZT”L. It’s turned into A”H. A”H is more personal. You need an acronym after the name. This way you can make a statement, and people don't know exactly what you're saying. Abba ZT"L A"H. I miss him. I cherish taking in the gift of life and Israel with Abba.

BE"H next year we'll relive more experiences I was Zoyche to have with my dad A”H.

***For an Aliyas Neshama for הרב ישעיה בן יחזקאל הלוי זצ"ל and all the Tzadikim who made and continue to make this Olam a great life.

Mom taught me to not waste time arguing with people. That’s how she got me to go to sleep early.
It was about giving people their space. Allowing for their self-expression. In this Olam, world, there is a lot of selfishness. Not Mom. Mom, always focused on the other person's needs. Those needs never included myself skipping school.

(Vayikra 25:10) "And you shall sanctify the fiftieth year, and proclaim freedom in the land for all who all its inhabitants. (Yovel) It shall be a Jubilee for you, and you shall return each man to his property, and you shall return each man to his family." And I am hoping that jerk gives me back the Mickey Mantle card he lied about when I was a kid.
In Yovel, slaves become free. Slaves are given their freedom of movement and are thus free. (Ramban). When people can move as they please, they are free.
The year of rest. The year of Yovel. The year of "Dror." Freedom. A year where kids shouldn't have to go to school.
"And man shall return to his inheritance." Returning to who you are. It is that return that gives Dror. Freedom. And my Mickey Mantle back.

Mom, Necha Bat Rav Chayim Zaydel vRiva Leah, passed away in a year of Yovel, Jubilee, after a life in this physical world of giving us all Nechama, comfort. She did this by allowing people to be who they are. By respecting what is theirs. Giving and accepting.
This acceptance of individuality gave people freedom of movement to be who they are as people, as Jews. Never wavering her commitment to Torah, she never used Torah to judge one’s personality. She used it to follow in Gd's ways, and to allow people to make very dumb decisions.
That gift of freedom and non-judgmental acceptance allows for celebration. And Rebbetzin Kilimnick gave everybody celebration.

About Taste You Don't Argue
Mommy always said "Al Taam vReyach Ein LHitvakeiach." "When it comes to taste and smell, there isn't what to argue about." She said it in Hebrew, which made it sound Biblical. Which means it's true.
Mommy and Abba always used Hebrew or Yiddish to make a point. I learned at a young age that you can't argue anything said in another language. Especially when you don't understand it.
I learned later on that it has to be said in Hebrew. In English, the saying doesn't rhyme.  
Mom allowed people freedom. She allowed people to be who they are. And that is Kadosh.

Mommy repeated it a lot. It was Mom's mantra. Whenever giving advice. And it manifested itself. I had no idea what it meant. If she would've just said it in English. As I recently learned later, it means “other people are very stupid. Don’t waste your time arguing with them.”
For years, we had arguments. "I hate soccer." "Al Taam vReyach Ein LHitvakeiach." "OK. Sounds good."
Mom thought I was getting a Jewish education. She thought I understood Hebrew. The only thing I learned in Jewish day school is that other Jewish kids also don't know Hebrew. I definitely don't understand transliteration. I now know that "Al" doesn't mean AI.
Al means "on." It might mean "about," or "when it comes to." With an Aleph it means "don't." It means too many things, and I stopped trying in fourth grade.

It was a matter of acceptance. Even when Mom came to my comedy and karaoke club, she accepted everybody. Along with Abba, she encapsulated a Yiddishkeit, a way of Jewish life, that people wanted to attach to. One in which they weren't judged for being a weirdo. A Yiddishkeit in which you could be free to serve Gd as somebody who has fondness of singing off tune.

Mom Wanted Me to Think of Others
When I think about other people, I like to think how they're wrong.
Al Taam vReyach Ein LHitvakeiach is about thinking of the other. About making them happy. About appreciating their thoughts. Nothing to do with arguments. That's why we gave gifts all the time. They start arguing with you, you give them a little trinket of a rebbe, they stop arguing with you.
I was into my own stuff. Mom wanted me to not be selfish. To not be focused just on me.​ Which is why I did not make it to the NBA. 
Mom wanted me to grow up to not be like the eighth-grade jerk who traded me Mike Greenwell cards for a Mickey Mantle and told me I was getting a great deal. How could I argue with him. He was very happy getting the Mickey Mantle. Al Taam vReyach Ein LHitvakeiach. If I only knew what it meant. The jerk had a penchant for stealing from people. Mom would've been proud of me if I had told her I gave away three thousand dollars because an eighth grader said, "You're getting such a good deal. I'm only happy, because I’m happy for you."

Mommy thought about other people, and she wanted me to think about other people. We even wrapped gifts. Half of my childhood I remember wrapping up stuff for other people. "Why do they get a Nintendo? I would like one of those." I think the Nintendo is enough. No. It has to be wrapped and personalized. A note, "This Nintendo is not for David."
It was about celebrating the other person's uniqueness, even if they liked carrots and peas in a can. To this day, I still don't know who's buying that stuff.
We would personalize the gift. Celebrate each unique person. 
Al Taam VaReaich. You get a gift you don't like, you can't argue. We thought it was a good idea. A gift specifically for you. My nephew hadn't learned that yet, when we gave him a train set for his birthday. He wanted the one with more colors. And so, he rightfully threw it and cursed out his Bubbie. 

Mom Was an Excellent Cook
Finally I moved to Israel. I realized the saying meant, "Don't argue with Sefardim about food." If they like it spicy, don't judge them.
Mom was an amazing cook. Great Taam. Loved her food. B"H my sister does a great job with Mom's food. Duck sauce chicken, amazing pies, quiches, Kugels, best lasagna, oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I can go on with the different dishes that made me fat.
The only person who argued with Mom’s taste was a Sefardi guy who made a point of saying the food has no taste. Apparently, if it's not Schug, it has no taste. I guess he didn't understand the saying, and that Ashkenazim have different taste. And he would argue about it. This guy needs Schug in everything. He needs his lemon pie Charif. The guy needs his desserts spicy. "Oatmeal cookies with Schug and Hilbeh. Disgusting. Who eats like this?! Who eats sweat desserts?! Ashkenazim."
I will say, you can argue when somebody makes duck sauce chicken wrong. Even so, Mom never made somebody feel bad for their food.​ It was their taste. Even if they are Sefardic.

Mom would bake the pecan pie for people. Because somebody wanted it. Somebody had that taste. Everybody had their taste and everybody like pecan pie with chocolate chips. Mom was a master of chocolate chip usage.
And I can't cook.

Celebrate Others
Everybody has different tastes and there is so much beauty out there. This lesson of different tastes and celebrating uniqueness had me ending up on a lot of really bad dates.
I will always remember the uniqueness of the jerk that lied to a sixth grader and ripped him off. Taking his Mickey Mantle. I truly do see that guy's uniqueness as a Ganev.
​
Mom brought comfort to people celebrating their individual freedom to be themselves and to smell bad. Come to think of it, Mom never told anybody they smelled disgustingly bad.
At camp, when I was sleeping next to a guy that smelled disgusting, she gave me soap to give to him. His name was not on it. It should've been. The soap should've been inscribed, "Shower. You smell disgusting."  
Thanks to Mom, I didn't argue with him about his smell. I just gave him soap. It was always a matter of making people feel good. Feeling good for who they are. Make them feel good for smelling disgusting.
Mom taught us all to be a Nechama. Be a comfort. Don't be an argument. And in the case of the guy who never showered, Mom taught me to be a kind solution and passive aggressive.

Lessons Learned
Don't argue, unless if somebody says something really dumb. Something political. Like, "Obama and Biden were great presidents."
When it comes to dating, "Al Taam VaReiach Yesh LiHitvakeiach."

You notice people's taste, you bring them pecan pie, you bring them happiness. People have their own thing. Their own taste. Once you understand that you can be kind. Tell that to the Sefardi guy that's still complaining about Ashkenazi food. Ashkenazim uniquely still can't handle Charif. They can taste stuff that doesn’t burn their mouth.

Mom focused on others. That's how she brought comfort. True to her name, Necha.
You felt good when you were around my Mom. You were comfortable. You could celebrate. You could be yourself. You could be free. And she had a whole community celebrating.
When you recognize what belongs to people, when you recognize their identity, their family, their needs, their uniqueness, how much they messed up, that is when you make things holy. Mom lived a holy life.
Jubilee. Sounds close enough to jubilation. By allowing all the comfort of personal expression, Mom brought joy to this Olam.

And what was Mom's freedom. Her being. The laughter, the kindness, the smile, the listening, the giving, the Torah, being a comfort to all.
I learned so much from Mom's example and Mom's teachings. And I now know people are idiots. Don't waste time arguing with them.

The Yovel year came and I did not get my Mickey Mantle card back. That guy owes it to me. That thief. 
I will not get over the Mickey Mantle.

***For an Aliyas Neshama for Rebbetzin Nechie Kilimnick נחה בת חיים זיידאל וריבה לאה ע"ה and all the unique Tzadikim who made and continue to make this Olam a great life.

What just happened. Are these people in my room? Did the Schwartzs just pop in uninvited?  Very rude. They were always very rude like that.
 
Does it look like I can pick up a phone and call? I didn’t invite you. I can’t move. This is what Bikur Cholim looks like. Visiting the sick looks like a bunch of people pushing their way into my room.
Did the shul announce this? It’s like the rabbi to put it out there. “Visit Phillip. He won’t kick you out. He can’t talk or move. Visit him and do what you want.” I’m in the shul bulletin now. They better not be advertising this. I hope I don’t get one of those pictures of me in my bed with this gown thing they threw on me. It’s a shroud. It’s a sick shroud. I’m in the hospital and they throw this on me. I woke up this morning. I thought I was dead. In a shroud.
 
They visit uninvited. I have to watch out for these people. I didn't invite them. I'm half naked. I just peed in the bag. This isn't the time for a visit.
Since when do people just show up, uninvited?
Now they’re talking. Asking me questions. I can’t move. I can’t talk. And they’re asking my questions. Are these people idiots? Do they not see the IVs?! I have fifteen IVs flying out of me, and they think it’s time for a conversation. Just talk. Don’t expect me to answer. I’m sorry I’m not a good host.
They expect me to host them now. They’re going to go back to the congregation and tell them how rude I was. I didn’t get up and offer them coffee.

It's nice to see them. I truly like the Schwartzs. Good people. Nosy. But good people. Caring people. Yet, they do talk a lot about their new cottage. They don’t care enough to stop talking about that.
At this point, pride is not of importance. It's real now. People visiting from the community is real. I need it. I appreciate it. I’m going to write a thank you, if I can ever move again. Where is my hand? Thank Gd it’s there. Forgot I had that.
My kids’ friends do this. They pop over uninvited. I can’t play Minecraft now.
 
Stay. Why are they leaving? Just because I can’t talk?!
You guys can at least turn on the TV!!!
Nope. They just left without turning on the TV. They broke into my room. Uninvited. The nurse aided and abetted in this whole act. The nurses aided and abetted. They stole some crushed ice and saltines from my tray.
The aide probably did nothing. Didn’t even abet. That guy has changed me in two days. Can you at least tell him to clean my butt.
 
Wait. They’re back. They got coffee. Now they can’t complain about me. They stole coffee. These people came for afternoon tea. I didn’t know the Schwartzs are British.
The least you all can do is turn on my TV. You see I can’t move. And tell them to stop bringing me trays. How am I going to eat when I got a trach for an esophagus. Even applesauce doesn’t pass through this thing.
I’m not complaining. I just need my butt cleaned. They come uninvited. I would let them clean my butt. At this point, I’m chafing. Baby Wipes!!!
I’m peeing again. These people give no privacy. Is this what they’re doing now? Following people into the bathroom?! Is that part of Bikur Cholim? Did the rabbi announce that? “Talk to Phil while he’s peeing. When you see the bag fill up, you’ll know it was a good conversation.”
 
Uninvited. I hope they didn't go to my house. I didn't invite them there. And I haven't had a chance to vacuum. Shoot. The grass is probably out of control. The neighbors are probably mad.
They’re probably going to break into my house now. Next week’s announcements will read, “Phillip doesn’t take care of his house.”
 
Why is family not here. The only people who have unbarred entrance are not here.
 
They just left. Now I’m going to miss The $100,000 Pyramid.
 
Will somebody tell the rabbi to put some of this stuff in the announcements. “When you visit Phillip, please turn on the TV. Watch TV with him. He doesn’t want to hear you going off on your kids. He doesn’t care if they’re in college. Your Nachis is annoying. He likes the Game Show Network, as he likes overly excited people. And leave the TV on when you leave. As you can see, he can’t pick up a remote control if he can’t move. And please face his bed towards the TV. He doesn’t enjoy looking at walls and ceilings. When you break into his house, please make sure all the bills are paid. Tell his daughter to brush her teeth. And tell his ex he now hates her. She’s a witch. Do some prayers. Phillip likes Davening. But don’t sing. The one positive about his stroke is he doesn’t have to hear your messed up harmonies in shul. Tell his family to visit, as it kind of sucks when you can’t take care of yourself, and people decide that that’s a good time to not be there for you. Also, please tell them to clean his butt. And he apologizes if you show up and he’s mooning you. He can’t flip his sheets.” And add, “He won’t write Thank Yous. He hates writing those. He appreciates the visits. Just the thought of having to write Thank Yous is too painful. Might cause a heart attack. He’s still getting over having to write the Thank Yous to the people who showed up to his Bar Mitzvah. It was a traumatic experience. And when you visit, he might be naked. Maybe. Don't be like the Schwartzs. Ask the aide to make sure he’s decent. And ask them, to clean his butt before you go in his room. Their eldest didn’t have to see that. Probably not as traumatic as writing Thank Yous. But he asks for Mechilah.”

It’s been a year and I don’t know what any of it means. All I have are ideas.
I’ve been saying Kaddish all year. No idea what it means. I still have no idea what "Ba’agalah" means. I said it around eight to twelve times a day for eleven months and I have no idea. I look in the English every time. Just looked at the English a few minutes ago. Forgot already. Anyways. Everything should be Ba'agalah. That sounds like a good blessing to give on a Yahrzeit.
It's been four years since I had those thoughts on my Abba's first Yahrzeit. And I still haven't figured it out

Maybe people figure some of this death stuff out quick. They're usually intellectuals. People in college who haven't lost anybody yet. But they have death down. They know Gd's plan. They sat on the quad with a buddy. I think it takes longer when it's your dad.
There's a lot I still haven't figured out. I still don't know how to get the dishwasher to work. It just sits there. If there is one reason for reincarnation, it would be to find out who broke the dishwasher. Was the dishwasher was broken before I tried using it. Why is Abba not in the physical Olam anymore. I have questions. How did it break. Maybe it was me. I will never know. 

Abba was my father. Hence, I called him Abba. Yet, to most, he was a rabbi, a rebbe. It's hard to see the rebbe when they're setting a bedtime for you, and saying you can't watch any more TV.
I read that Hasidim, a rebbe's adherents, would follow their masters in their last days. They follow them all the time. Very nosy. This is a reason to not have Hasidim. You go grocery shopping and fifty people are following you down the canned foods aisle, and not one of them offers to pay. But this specifically speaks of their rebbe's last days, as they learn from the way the rebbe lives and dies. "To record the last moments of their masters was for Hasidim a sacred task" (Jewish Reflections on Death, Riemer, p.16). These community leaders, Hasidic Rebbes, are also known as a Tzadik, righteous person. And they probably wouldn't have passed away if the Hasidim would've put down a pen and called a doctor.
I didn’t record anything as I have seen what happens nowadays with social media. However, I witnessed my father’s last days of living in Olam Haguf (I call it the world of the body, because the only thing about passing that I know is that we are not using our body for actions anymore- at least for now).
Sometimes, the only way for a rebbe to shake off his Hasidim is by dying.

Being with my father the last months of his life in the physical Olam I learned of forgiveness. He forgave. He judged not. His last words were of love. What makes a Tzadik? I would say forgiveness. If we are judged as righteous when our Mitzvot outweigh our Aveirot (sins), we are definitely righteous when we are able to help others in that process of having less Aveirot. And that is what forgiveness does.
My rebbe always thought about others. And that is what he expressed in his final days.
Other people are annoying. They mess up. My Abba always saw people for good.
In his last days, my Abba taught me that even congregants have good in them. It's hard to see that, but it's there. And you have to forgive them for being idiots. That's what I got out of it.
 
What’s the lesson that we learn when a Tzadik passes? I don’t know. I’ll give a sermon about it at some point. Who knows, somebody else may give a sermon about it. They will have no idea what it means. Even so, it will sound good. It will sound meaningful. It will sound like the rabbi knows what’s going on. Even though the guy has never lost somebody. They had a buddy who thought about death in Ancient Stoic Philosophy 101.
I do know that I wasn't trying to learn a lesson those final days. I'm still not trying to learn a lesson. Being there with my dad was life itself. Not a lesson. You tell me there is something to be learned, and I will not be happy. People don't want to learn lessons about dying. If you want to lose your job as a rabbi, start telling people it's good their parents passed, because they can learn something from it. But I learned a lot from it. Just don't tell me that.
There is always an idiot leader ready to piss off the mourners. Usually, they wait for communal tragedy to share their thoughts.

Following the rebbe in their last days has something to do with what’s truly important in life. People seem to hone in on what’s important when they’re faced with mortality. When it's my time, I’ll probably be focused on selling my baseball cards. I know I’m mortal and that’s what I’m focusing on now. I can't get rid of those things. It will just be a greater degree of urgency. I’ll probably do a flash sale from the hospital. Collecting as a child focuses the rest of your life on selling the stuff. 
We’re faced with mortality every day. Walking under the trees in my neighborhood. The trees are old. Every morning, I see countless branches on the ground. Dead. Dead branches. I’m just happy I’m sleeping when it’s happening. I can’t deal with more death right now. And I am not following the trees right before the arborist cuts it down. Though, I am sure they think congregants are annoying. And I know they hate dogs.
Those last days, when the body is weakening, are the culmination of one's true thoughts. What does one want to leave in this world. Abba wanted to make sure I trimmed the hedges. He didn't mention the baseball cards. Those were still in the house. And he wanted to know that everybody else was good. They were good and righteous in Gd's eyes.
When will I start thinking about others, like my rebbe, my Abba?!

The Rebbe focuses his life as a community leader. One who leads people in Torah. Their students follow them, as they know that the actions of their rebbe represent Torah. And then, their last days, you see the culmination of this part of their life. What they seem to believe it was all about. Generally, the culmination is represented with tubes and a lot of sedation. They’re spent wondering how a bed with so many different incline positions can be so uncomfortable. But for those other moments, you see someone’s true essence. And Abba wanted me to turn off the TV. And to have a conversation with is son. He wanted his son to know he is a decent dude, and he's proud of him. Not because his son accomplished anything. It goes without saying, that didn't happen. But because he thought his son cared about people and was a good human being. Basically, Abba knew I accomplished nothing. Loading up the house with boxes of baseball cards isn't a source of Nachis. But his son caring about Pete Rose being in the Hall of Fame, that's a source of Nachis.
Abba was proud of all his kids. Which goes to show, never trust a parent who tells you how great their children are.
Truth is, Abba did support my comedy and got Nachis from that. Not because of success. But because I cared and hopefully did something of a giving nature with it. And that is where Abba's mind was. It was focused on what is truly important. When it comes to other people. It's caring about them. And Abba taught me that throughout his life. I would've followed Abba everywhere, taking notes, but Abba was skeptical of journalists.

Those last days, my Abba, the rebbe, shared with me the moments of his beautiful interactions with people. Challenges and how they were overcome. He was sharing with me what is truly important. Family, caring for people, seeing other people in a positive light. Even if they are pieces of…
 I try to now see people in a positive light. I see it something like "we wouldn’t be able to see good in the world if there wasn’t evil." That’s why I worked my last job. I wouldn’t have known hypocrisy, lies and evil if I didn’t work there.

Lessons from this Yahrzeit
Losing my Abba and rebbe in this world is hard. But I do thank Gd, as with all gifts, for the holy day of the Yahrzeit. For Kaddish which I don't understand. For being blessed with parents that were so caring, with an ability to see the blessing of people. And for those last days with my Abba. I would never trade those last months in the house, taking in my father's heightened sense of perspective before heading to Olam Haba.
In those last days of us talking, Abba turned into my rebbe. In their last days, many people project their thoughts onto their parents. They turn their parents into something they want, so that they can cope. To be blessed to take in those days with my father sharing his true feelings, learning from him. And to take in his love for Yiddishkeit and people, while wondering why the baseball cards are still in his house.

All those hours by his bedside. Those conversations in the home I grew up in, I learned so much about outlook. To not judge people. For they are all idiots. My father couldn't shake that thought from me. 
My father saw everybody as talented. As precious. As holy. And he always gave them that respect. That's what my Rebbe taught. And he taught that throughout his life. I should've written that down over the many years, instead of advocating for myself to eat hamburgers and deli at 2am.
I would've rather he just told me who broke the dishwasher.

I miss those moments in this Olam. But I feel the holy moments all the time. Todah Rabbah for passing that on. At the end, the real success is just being decent and caring, and forgiving.
I've got to start letting people know they're good dudes and I'm proud of them, even though they're idiots.
May it all be Ba'agalah. Whatever that means. I’m sure it’s a blessing.
 
***For an Aliyas Neshama for הרב ישעיה בן יחזקאל הלוי זצ"ל and all the Tzadikim who made and continue to make this Olam a great life.

Let’s talk about gifts again. Actual gifts. We're going to talk about giving gifts. Mommy was a giver. And one thing she gave a lot was gifts. 

You Give Gifts
What else are you going to give? A cough? Let's start here. With gifts. Nobody wants you to give them a cough and a fever. Who wants to work?! That's why we're not talking about giving people jobs right now. Give gifts.
Gifts are a good way to give. Gifts are always in conjunction with "give." You don't donate gifts. Though you could do that if you don't have any leftover pasta for the food cupboard. 
When donating to the food cupboard you first want to think about stuff you don't want. Stuff you want to throw out. Then you check for stuff that's really old. Dry goods that are out of date. If you have nothing else, you can throw in a toy. Little kids eat those too.
Point is that when you think of giving, you think of gifts. You can take gifts but we're talking about giving. You go out, buy somebody a gift and take it. That's off. You buy a sweater that's your size, and then you wear it, it's not a gift. You went shopping. You bought a sweater.
I got chocolate for a girl years ago. I ate it. She never got the gift. That relationship did not pan out.
I know, many of you are mad, because Oprah says you've got to treat yourself well. And that means buying gifts for yourself. Mommy thought about others. Let's focus on giving gifts to others, and not stealing sweaters you knitted.

People Are Holy
(Bereishit 9:6) "In the image of Gd, He created man." People are created in Gd's image and they are all the best. Everybody deserves the best. And thus they get gifts. (Pirkei Avot 3:14) Rabbi Akiva teaches, "Man is loved because he is created in Gd's image." How do you show somebody you love them? You say "I love you." Point is everybody is important. Everybody is unique. And they all deserve gifts. People like gifts more than love.
The gift lets people know how unique they are. How loved they are. This is one way Mommy showed it. A gift for each person and a fight with Abba. She wasted so much money on gifts.
Mommy had a whole closet full of gifts. Always stacked. Abba thought he was going to pull out a nice new shirt and all the sudden there's a closet full of Monopoly and Bob the Builder.
Gifts make people feel special. They let people know they are holy. It reminds them they were created for a reason. And that reason is to get gifts. 
Mom was a gift champion. She had gifts for everybody, because she thought of others. That is what made Mommy unique. She thought of others. Most people are selfish pieces of... Give gifts. Don't be a selfish piece of...

Mommy Saw The Special in Others
Mommy saw people as being special. She didn't look at everybody like they were disabled. She looked at everybody like they were important.
Mommy was a star at Camp HASC for special needs. I remember Mom showing up one day and all the campers felt like they were seeing a close friend. Mommy was kind, giving, smiling, nonjudgmental. She treated them with respect. She didn't have gifts that day, so they stopped talking to her after a minute. You can get respect anywhere. If you don't have a gift, what's the point?! There are better friends out there.
The idea is to let people know they're important and loved. Godly. Give them something to let them know that. A Tonka truck. If Mommy would've had Tonka trucks, the campers would've invited her back to Camp HASC.
Mommy focused a lot on gifts. She knew people felt important when they got something. Especially a mirror with a name on it. "Rebecca." Mom bought a lot of mirrors with the name "Rebecca" on it. They must've had a sale on Rebeccas. It makes you feel good getting a Rebecca mirror, especially if your name is Samantha. It's special. Samanthas usually don't get Rebecca mirrors.
Mommy liked sales. Whenever Mommy saw a sale, she was thinking about Jewish kids. Mommy is the reason why the anti-Semites think Jews like deals.

See the Specialness
I will never forget doing a show and I didn't understand why a comedian was getting laughs. Mommy was laughing and she said, "Everybody has their thing." Mommy taught me that day that everybody is great. They all have their thing. You just have to see their godliness. You see that, and you can laugh, no matter how bad a comic is. 
I thought I knew comedy. I thought I understood it. I had seen beyond enough performances to understand. I didn't understand the person. Their soul. Their lack of effort they put into their routine. 
Mommy saw the uniqueness in that comedian. The specialness. She didn't have a gift for him. Though, she did give the gift of laughter. Ever since then, I laugh no matter how bad a show is. And I have seen many uniquely bad shows.
Mommy should've given him a prop. That would have been a nice gift for that comic. Something to help him with a joke. A joke that was not dependent on seeing his godliness.
Through the acceptance of the godly soul of each individual, I learned to give. I learned to accept that some kids are just not very artistic. It is for this reason, my siblings still hang their kids pictures on the fridge. They're pathetic works of crayon on construction paper, but they're holy. Holy works of... At least they have all stayed away from canvas.
You give the gift of laughter and you let a comedian know you appreciate that they haven’t connected with their godly self. You give a platter as a gift to somebody and you let them know they should be presenting dinner more elegantly. You give gifts and you let them know they had an oversight. They overlooked stuff and they are created in Gd’s image.

You give a gift and you let somebody know you were thinking about them. I wish I would've not eaten that Toblerone that Tu BAv. I would've been married. 

Lessons Learned
People who got the real gift from Mommy learned to give. Giving is the action we emulate as those created in Gd's image. Mommy truly reflected His image.
That is a life well lived in this Olam. A life focused on caring for others. And she was a happy person, because she was focused on others. That is how you feel good about yourself. You focus on how messed up other people are. You do that, and you can laugh. You give gifts and make them feel better. You let them know they're important, even though their family hates them. You give them a gift and you don't have to spend an hour and a half listening to them complain about their kids. 

Give gifts when you can, especially when you find them on sale.
Mommy taught me to think about others. Give to them. Anything can be a gift, but nothing is more meaningful than “buy two, get one free.” We're focusing on the physical manifestation of an actual gift. I gave somebody a hug the other day. They didn't appreciate it. They invited me for dinner and I forgot to bring wine. I thought the hug would be sufficient. They said they would’ve rather hugged a cabernet. I did think to bring chocolate. Though, I ate that before I showed up to dinner.

Givers make people feel special. Takers make people feel special and broke. So, make people feel special and go broke on gifts. From now on, I will try to show my appreciation of others by saying "thank you."
Everybody is created in Gd's image, and thus holy. Holy people deserve gifts, even if they're not Kohens.
We can all be the most important person in the world. Each one of those people that got a gift felt that way, because my Mom made herself important to them.
 
You can give to anybody. Even if their comedy is off. You focus on others, you can see their uniqueness. You can laugh. I am still trying to figure out what that comics "thing" is. What's a thing? Maybe it was an ungodly thing. Nonetheless, I laugh at other people's things now. Especially, when it’s illness. As I learned from Mommy, laughter is a form of giving.
Don't focus on you, even if Oprah says to. A gift must be focused on the godliness of the other person.
It's how you give a gift. I remember I once gave somebody a gift and I said, "Enjoy it. I'm broke. That was my paycheck."

It sounds cooler to say "Mom." If you want people to mock you, say, "Mommy” at forty-eight years old. Forty-eight and a week. I still count my weeks. But that is my uniqueness.

Gifts are about letting the other person know you see the special in them. Bringing wine for dinner is thus not a gift. In my books, it's a necessary. It's a thank you. Thank yous are also part of giving. But a thank you is not a gift.

Why did Mom feel good seeing the others happy? Because we're all connected in Gd's image. This is why we feel good when we're kind to others. When we give a gift or a laugh, or some wine so that you get the dinner invitation again. Because we're connected with One. In a sense it's kind of selfish to be nice. A little wisdom I pass on to you.

***For an Aliyas Neshama for נחה בת חיים זיידאל וריבה לאה ע"ה and all the Tzadikim who made and continue to make this Olam a great life.

Getting Ready for Shabbos
Journal Entry by Rabbi Shaya Kilimnick — January 3, 2016

My daughter took this picture. Before I put on my Tzitzis
I'm posting it so people shouldn't think that I enter Shabbos with a miserable face.

His Child's Commentary & Lessons He Learned from Abba
Abba was Frum. I didn't realize how religious Abba was until I saw how he wrote Shabbos. You can tell how religious somebody is by how they spell Shabbis. Shabbos is very Frum. Shabbis is relatively Frum. Shabbat, and you are breaking every law of Shabbos. Probably making fires anywhere you have a chance to light a match.

My father had on a shirt. It's the more comfortable way to wear Tzitzis. You out the Tzitzis over an undershirt or a Tshirt, and then you can serve Gd in comfort. It was a picture of Abba smiling.
Sometimes you want to let people know you're OK. They're worried and a picture is a way of letting them know you're good. A picture with a smile. It wasn't a picture taken of me at a Simcha. A picture of me at a wedding does not exude happiness. It exudes a feeling of time being wasted on behalf of young happy people. My father at a Simcha, he had a smile.
The smile says everything. I have to smile more. I always got in trouble around the time of family pictures. I probably didn't smile because Abba was ripping out my hair, trying to get my cowlick to stay down.

There are pictures people post on social media on a yacht. Smiling on a yacht. Those pictures are there to get you mad. They're not letting you know they're OK. They're letting you know they're better than you.
Abba's picture says, "Have a Good Shabbos. I'm good. You should be good too. Even though you haven't visited, or cared to make a phone call. Just know I'm good. I'm here with cancer and I'm good. So go on with your selfish life and be happy. I'll cook my own food- Since you stopped sending food three weeks into cancer."

When family was around Abba didn't need visitors. He was happy with his family being around. Taking in the Nachis of his children. Unless if that was me. Then visitors were appreciated. And I would be able to bring out the chips, Diet Coke and ice, and ice cream for everybody. I learned as a kid that getting Diet Coke and ice was a Mitzvah. Getting Diet Coke and ice is called Kibud Av vEim. Honoring your parents when they're relaxing on a couch. I had good Chinuch growing up.

Abba had to put in the Tzitzis comment because people would've talked. "Our rabbi doesn't wear Tzitzit?!" And they would've said "Tzitzit." My father is Frummer than them. He says "Tzitzis."

And that is how you enter Shabbos. Smiling and good. You don't expect Shabbos to make things good. You expect Shabbat to make things good. Shabbos, you come in with energy to that. An energy that you developed learning in Yeshiva and living a Torah life for seventy years.
What you give to a day is what you will get out of it. I believe it's the Beatles who said, "The day you make is equal to the day you take." Or it might have been, "The Shabbos you make is equal to the Shabbos you take." I don't remember which one the Beatles said. But Abba took that lesson to heart and shared it. Sharing his smile and gratitude is what he had to do.

Postscript
I decided that we'll post the comments and my comments to the comments, and the stats, after all of Abba's Caring Bridge posts are finished. Otherwise, we'll get too caught up in people saying how much they care and how much they don't want to visit or send food. I'm still trying to figure out where all the food went from the beginning of cancer. When do they stop bringing the food?!
As rabbi, Abba should've made a rabbinic decree to bring food even when people are in remission, as they still have families in remission. And there is still Shabbos in remission.
People who keep Shabbat, you don't want them cooking Shabbos food for you. They have no idea how to make a decent Lukshen Kugel.

The smile was Abba's way of giving to his community. He was going into Shabbos with a smile and he wanted you to go into Shabbat with a smile too. Abba didn't judge you, even if you celebrated Shabbat every week.
It is all gratitude, as the smile in the picture that you can't see shows.

***For an Aliyas Neshama for רב ישעיה בן יחזקאל זצ"ל and all the Tzadikim who made and continue to make this Olam a great life.

Mom made everybody feel special. A lesson we discussed last time. She did this by constantly giving. Mom was a giver. And so I started thinking about giving, until I realized how much it costs. I am still mad that shul dues are at around $2,200. I will put that aside for now.

Be a Giver
In Rabbi Dessler's Strive for Truth he teaches that it is man's mission to follow in Gd's ways, and Gd is a giver. Read the book if you want to know the chapter. I'm not here to be a dictionary for you. Do some work yourself. I won't always be here for you. I'm working on the giving thing. It takes time. Mom would've given you the source. Mom would've found the page for you.
Lesson is that we should all strive to be givers. Not takers. Like Gd who giveth life and... Forget the taketh part. We're talking about giving here. Gd gives.

What does ‘being a giver’ mean is the question. It means gratitude. It's making other people feel special. It's focusing on the other person. It also means giving. Hence, the word 'give.' If I have to explain this. I guess we answered that question. We should stop here. But I will go on.

Focus on Others
Being a giver is an outlook. A mindset. Thinking about others. How you express gratitude. It's a way to spend money.
If you think about yourself, you're going to get down. You’re going to start thinking about work, the kids, and how you got ripped off at Kohl’s when they gave you 280% off. Life is not that good. When you focus on others you can laugh at how bad they have it. That's the essence of joy.
Focusing on others allowed Mom to visit the sick, and make them feel good, even when dealing with me. It allowed Mom to be a nurse that brought joy to people in their hardest of times.
We should stop here. But I will go on for a bunch of feature pieces for a bunch of months. And I will go on right now about Mom's focus and how she gave with her conversation. I will then go on about Mom's giving of time and care. We will then learn from Mom's gift giving abilities and how she ruined my Chanukah.

Conversation of the Taker
Takers focus on themselves. The conversation is always about them and how bad their lives are. Nobody's life is ever good. Nobody ever talks about how amazing their tulips look. That's not conversation. People leave when you talk about that stuff. Spreading happy.
Nobody's life is good unless if they're on social media or being featured in the NJ Five Town Rockland County's publication of Jews Who Give Money and Vacation A Lot. How it is that they're the greatest donors and they're still able to live half the year in Maui on a yacht with a private chef? I don't know. But it deserves a plaque.
People’s lives on social media are amazing. They’re always smiling. They’re always on vacation. Never at work. Just a bunch of happy people smiling on Instagram. I never see that in shul. At Kiddish, I see these depressed doppelgangers. Depressed doppelgangers not willing to share a Kichel. Angrily elbowing me on their way to potato Kugel.

Conversation of the Giver
Givers focus on others. That is the essence of the giver. If you ever had a conversation with Mom it was focused on you and your family. She didn't want to have to explain why her son does dumb stuff.
Mom cared about others. The conversation was always, 'How are you kids doing?' You want to leave the question open and vague. Otherwise, you have to remember the kids' names. Mom actually knew their names. She just wanted to give the parents a chance to focus on the children that gave them Nachis.
'How are the kids doing?' Now that I think of all the lackluster performances at my violin recitals. Mom was trying to stump them. Catch them off guard in a moment of honesty, where they say how their children bring them no joy. That is why Mom was always able to laugh. She didn’t focus on her son who stuck on ‘Twinkle Little Star’ for eight years.

Mom focused on others. When she had a broken leg, you heard nothing about it. I sneezed and Mom gave me attention. Mom hopped over on one leg with a tissue, and I was asking why it took so long.
Mom never focused on herself. I remember hearing Mom had surgery around five years ago. I had no idea. On the day Mom had surgery I was complaining about a customer who didn't leave a tip at Off The Wall's bar.
Some things in life are hard. But you make it through. It was a hard day. Yet, I got through that day without the five shekels. It takes strength, but you do it.

Focusing on Others Allows You to Enjoy
It was this focus on others that still had Mom laughing even with her physical hurt. Being a giver allowed her to not think about her pain. It allowed her to be godly.
Focusing on others allows you to smile. Healthy people don't do that. Healthy people take. They take the positive of your life and kill it. They usually have a smug look of unhappy. Healthy people do whatever they can to ensure you're miserable. Your depression is their focus. They work as mechanics. [Sorry. That got out of hand. I just had an oil change and found out the guy thought it would be a good idea to fix the engine for six-thousand dollars as part of the 'free full service'. My tulips aren't looking that good. I hope that makes me affable.]

One of Mom's friends visited her in the hardest of her times, where Mom couldn't move or talk, after her aneurysm. Her friend said, 'I feel so bad. Last time I was here she couldn't move or say anything. I was down for a few days.' I turned to Mom and said, 'Mom. Rivka is having it hard.'
It was absurd to be there listening to this, suffering from an aneurysm, and somebody else is the one feeling bad. Mom laughed.
Mom was able to laugh, because she was a giver and focused on others. And nothing is funnier than how messed up other people are.

Lessons Learned
Focus on others and you will be able to enjoy life. You'll be able to laugh at them. ​Don't be a taker, focusing on yourself; you'll never get invited for another Shabbis meal. And don't focus on shul. Thinking about dues will bring you down.
If I ever have pain, I'm going to whack somebody else and think about their pain.
Perspective brings enjoyment. Mom had a beautiful perspective because she focused on others. She was a vessel of good in this world. A vessel that made everybody feel special, even if their children brought them no Nachis.
It was violin. It was the Suzuki method that messed me up.

Epilogue: I hope Rivka is OK. She must have had some hard years there not visiting.

Next time we will focus on gifts, and other cheaper ways of giving that people don't appreciate.

***As Mom's Yahrzeit was this month (it was hard putting this piece together), this should be for an Aliyas Neshama for נחה בת חיים זיידאל וריבה לאה ע"ה and all the Tzadikim who made and continue to make this Olam a great life. An world we can laugh in.