Eulogy

The following is the hesped (eulogy) that I gave at the stone setting.

The words on the matzeiva read:

פיה פתחה בחכמה ותורת חסד על לשונה

She opens her mouth with wisdom, 

and a lesson of kindness is on her tongue

It is customary to deliver a hesped about the nifteres...

We forget what we are and where we’ve come from.

We forget that we do not have a neshomo; we ARE neshomos. We are neshomos that Hashem puts into these flesh and blood bodies in order to be fixed and accumulate our eternal reward.

We come down here to do a job. When it has been completed, we go back to Shomayim. But this world is filled full of distractions and pitfalls that interfere with our attempts to be true to our pure neshomos.

So how do we know if we’re on target? If we’re doing it right?

In Pirkei Avot (3:13) it says:

כל שרוח הבריות נוחה הימנו, רוח המקום נוחה הימנו

One who is pleasing to his fellow men, is pleasing to G-d.

The answer is surprisingly simple: If G-d likes what you’re doing, then you’re doing it right!

It also says in Pirkei Avot (1:15)

 מקבל את כל האדם בסבר פנים יפות

Receive everyone with a cheerful face

My darling Breina Mariasa, whoever came into contact with you was warmed by your beautiful smile, your listening ears and your wise words. And when you smiled, it wasn’t only with your lips but also with your eyes.

One of the greatest challenges a person faces in this world is observing the many laws of Loshon Hara, Motzei Shem Ra, Onas Devarim, Divrei Sheker and Rechilas. But you fulfilled those laws impeccably. Over the years we never heard a bad word said by you – neither about anyone or any thing.

You only saw the good in people and in things, which is why you could not tolerate negativity and you were always so positive. It’s not surprising that nobody ever said a bad word about you.

The Chafetz Chaim claims that all the episodes in the Torah concerning “lashon hara” – such as the spies and Miriam – were caused by a failure to observe the mitzvah of dan l’kaf zechut, giving the benefit of the doubt.

Giving the benefit of the doubt was your trademark, which you frequently expressed by saying about people:

"You have to know who you are dealing with..."

Allow me to elaborate: As many of you are aware, my wife established hair hygiene programmes in many of the local Jewish schools in London. Over the past twenty years she has dealt with thousands of children and hundreds of parents and I can attest that in all those years, not one person ever had cause to complain about the way my wife dealt with them! 

Barb always gave the benefit of the doubt, judging people favourably – as it says in Pirkei Avot (1:6),

 והוי דן את כל האדום לכף זכות

Judge everyone favourably

So it isn’t hard to see why you are so pleasing to G-d and why He took you back so young to daven for Klal Yisroel and for us at this most difficult time.

Where do we go from here?

Let’s go back to basics.

We Jews are “Believers”, the children of Believers.

There are different levels of belief.

Rabbi Noach Weinberg ztl of Aish Hatorah says that there are things that we know with “5 finger clarity” – that is to say, it’s as plain as the hand in front of your face.

According to the Rambam, there are 13 principles of our faith that we have to believe in completely as Jews.

For example, that G-d is One; He’s indivisible; without form and so on.

The 12^th principle is:

אני מאמין באמונה שלמה, בביאת המשיח

I believe with complete faith in the coming of the Moshiach

We don’t know when – precisely – he will come but we anticipate the Moshiach’s arrival any moment. The gedolim are unanimous in that his arrival is imminent.

The final, 13^th principle is:

אני מאמין באמונה שלמה, שתהיה תחית המתים

I believe with complete faith that there will be 

a resuscitation of the dead.

But what does that mean? 

We say it 5 times in the second paragraph of the Amidah, at least 3 times a day, 365 days a year! So, what, exactly, does the Almighty intend to do with the neshomos, like my wife’s, that have returned to Shomayim?

The 5 finger clarity answer is said every morning in the preliminary prayers that we say before davening:

ברוך אתה ד', המחזיר נשמות לפגרים מתים

Blessed are You, Hashem, Who restores neshomos to dead bodies

My darling, dearest beloved Breina Mariasa, my love, my heart, my Barb. When I first laid eyes on you, 31 years ago, you gave me your wonderful smile and I was yours from that moment.

I believe with complete faith that not only are you coming back very soon with Moshiach but when we, please G-d, meet again, the first thing you’ll do is greet me with your very special smile.

Ad bias HaMoshiach, my love.

Just One Month - the full story

The one thing I definitely did not want to do was to produce a ‘tribute’ or ‘in memoriam’ page for Barb.

From the many emails and phone calls that I received, it’s apparent that not everyone is aware of what happened, so I would like to take this opportunity to fill you in.

Barb was first struck with breast cancer in April 2011. Thank G-d, she emerged from the year of chemotherapy and radiotherapy in relative good health and enjoyed another 3 good, healthy, happy, exquisite years with her family. The last 2 ¼ years were spent in Israel – we moved to Ramat Beit Shemesh, and I can say, unhesitatingly, that these were the very best years of our lives so far.

Barb looked after herself: she ate properly, exercised almost every day and had her regular 6-monthly check-ups.

About a month after her last check up she started to feel some pain in the area where she’d previously had the cancer but this passed quickly. It was followed around a month later by a similar pain on the other side and this also went away after a couple of weeks. Finally, about 2 ½ months ago, she started to experience back ache and took herself to an osteopath and then a chiropractor, but it didn’t help at all. Finally, just before Succot she saw something in her skin, went to her GP who then sent her “as a precaution” for a mammogram during Succot. Nobody was expecting it to be anything significant.

While I was davening for her in the waiting room of the hospital I received a text from her that simply said, “It doesn’t look good. :(” We left the Women’s Health department and immediately fell on each other weeping. Barb said, “I don’t want to die. I have so many things I want to do”.

I think that was the last time that we embraced...

Barb was achey and a bit weak at that point. We were travelling to the US for our son’s wedding on the 11 October and were planning to stay for 10 days but following a meeting with the oncologist, she asked us to cut the trip short and come back on 19 October to begin chemotherapy two days later.  The oncologist also said Barb’s blood test showed that the liver seemed to have been infected.  There was a serious question as to whether we would be able to fly to the wedding at all but since there was nothing to be done until a PET CT scan was carried out, the oncologist said we could go.

The question of whether or what to tell anybody became an immediate issue. We didn't want to cast a pall over the forthcoming simcha, but it would be obvious that something was going on and that might cause even more of a problem. Also, we needed the prayers of as many people as possible, first and foremost those of the bride and the groom since the prayers said under the chupa are the most powerful all. It was decided to tell the kids that Barb was ill again but not to tell them that it was different and more aggressive than last time. We also decided to tell immediate family in the US as well as our future in-laws so that the necessary assistance for Barb could be arranged in good time.

The scan was hurriedly scheduled for 12:30 on 11 October and our flight to Milwaukee was scheduled for 11:30, later that night. After the scan, our very close friends took us out for a late lunch at a local restaurant. Barb walked from the car to our table and then walked back to the car after the meal. But by the time we arrived at the airport at 8:00 she was in a wheelchair.

Both of the two flights to Milwaukee were terribly difficult for Barb since she was in a lot of pain whenever she was sitting in an upright position. I had tried to upgrade to Business Class by purchasing her a seat but none were available. When I mentioned that my wife was unwell, we were almost ejected from the flight since, as the chief steward said, “We are cabin crew, not nursemaids”. So, we bluffed the steward that Barb was simply exhausted from all the wedding preparations and we got away with it.

When we arrived in Milwaukee, a wheelchair was on hand to take us to the car and from there to the home where we would be staying.

We arrived on Monday morning and Barb went straight to bed and stayed there till the day of the wedding, Wednesday. From the house she went to the hotel (the venue) and changed into her gown.  I didn’t see her that day until we met up for the pre-nuptial photos: she stood when she had to and sat whenever she could. She looked radiant and showed no sign of pain or discomfort, just a lack of strength.

Because she didn’t have the strength to walk the 200 metres to the chosson’s room for the tanaim, the men all came to the women’s room and the tanaim, with the breaking of the plate, were conducted there. Again, she looked stunning.

Finally, when the moment came, we walked our son, Aaron, down the aisle to the chupa. Barb walked the 100 metres proud and tall. When the kallah arrived she then accompanied her and her mother and circled  Aaron a full seven times. She sat through some of the ceremony under the chupa and stood for the main parts and she was gently swaying to the music in what could only be described as spiritual bliss. In retrospect, I wonder if she was more part of Heaven than Earth at that point. And I wonder if she had any idea how bad things were?

After the ceremony, we walked – with great effort on her part – back to the chosson’s room for the post nuptial photos, followed by another walk to the reception where, I am told, Barb fulfilled her wish of dancing with the kallah. She stayed for a bit to see our kids entertain the chosson and kallah... at which point she was finished. She went back to her room in the hotel and all but collapsed into bed.

Barb had been unable to eat anything since we left Israel. She was sipping smoothies and nibbling at a banana here and there but she was getting weaker by the hour. On Thursday, we took her to an emergency doctor as it was thought that she was suffering from pneumonia... if only! The doctor linked what was happening to the cancer.

Friday night, her condition worsened and she was in terrible pain. Thank G-d, after taking pain killers, it subsided enough to allow her to sleep and on Shabbat morning she greeted me with a big smile, saying that, thank G-d, she was feeling a bit better. However, when I returned from shul I was told that she and our daughter, Eytana, had taken a taxi to the local hospital (a couple of blocks away), St Joseph's, as she had started to cough up some blood.

I found her in ER and, again, thank G-d, she looked a lot better and they were happy to discharge her. I requested a letter from the doctor saying that, in his opinion, Barb was ‘fit to fly’ the next day and he kindly agreed.

Sunday found Barb getting weaker and weaker. She looked emaciated and we did not know whether we would make it on to the plane or not because she was in so much pain. Thank G-d, for the second leg of our flight from Newark to Tel Aviv, I had managed to buy Business Class seats and that, basically, saved her. She spent the whole flight lying down and I was continually nursing her with sips of water and smoothies. I had been keeping in touch with our GP in Israel and she had warned me not to request a medivac until we were no more than 1 hour away from landing. Anymore than that and we could have found ourselves being put down in another country.

Barb was evacuated from the plane in a wheelchair at 4:15 p.m. and a friend picked us up and drove us to ‘our’ hospital – Shaarei Zedek Medical Centre in Jerusalem. By 6:30 p.m. she was on a drip in the ER and within a short while was beginning to get some strength back. Once she was ‘settled’ in, I returned to our apartment in Beit Shemesh, sadly entering alone. It wasn’t the homecoming experience that I had been expecting.

I went to the hospital early the next morning and had a meeting with the oncologist. She told me, as gently as possible but in no uncertain terms, that this was not the same cancer as before. The test results showed that it was in the liver and bone marrow, was highly aggressive and that there was no cure. Barb was in a very, very bad way and even if the she stabilised and that the chemotherapy worked, she had no more than 12 – 18 months. I shook my head in disbelief and cried. The decision was made not to tell Barb. (The law in Israel is that doctors are only legally obliged to tell the patient if they are asked.)

Barb had her first chemo on the Tuesday and the second a week later. Thank G-d, she didn’t have any of the nausea that she experienced 4 years ago but, nevertheless, still had the fatigue. Incredibly, her blood system stabilised – a major ‘plus’ in her fight, but it was a battle, not the war itself.

Shabbat in hospital is not a pleasant experience but the amount of chessed that goes on in Israel is extraordinary – care packages, cakes, drinks, musicians (erev Shabbat). By the end of second week she was beginning to ‘pick up’ and colour was returning to her cheeks. Although incredibly weak – she barely opened her eyes – it looked as if she would come home after another week or so and recuperate between chemo sessions there.

But the Almighty decided otherwise. On Friday 30 October, just one hour before Shabbat, she suddenly took a turn for the worse and was rushed upstairs to ICU. She had a very rough Shabbat but even then, there was no indication that this was no more than a temporary setback from which she could recover.

At the end of Shabbat I kissed her goodnight, told her I would be back in the morning and went home. I was planning to return at 10:00 the next morning, but I received a text from Eytana at 7:00 to come in as soon as possible. I left almost right away and arrived at her bedside to find her sedated and on a respirator. She had stopped breathing twice and had to be resuscitated. From then it was a slow decline till 00:30 on Monday morning when she passed away in our presence - of all her children and their spouses, exactly one month since the diagnosis.

It’s G-d’s Will: we accept it.

The Bus Journey

A story was told during the shiva, which I have adapted so slightly.

You can catch a bus that takes you all the way through Jerusalem – from Gilo in the South to Pisgat Ze’ev in the north. The whole trip takes around half an hour when the roads are clear and the passenger is charged a flat-rate fee – it’s the same price whether he travels 3 stops or 20.

Early one morning a young man gets on the bus at Gilo. The bus is empty and, being the kind of person who enjoys company, he’s feeling a little lonely. However, after a few stops a young lady gets on and sits down a few seats away. She’s lovely so he stands up, walks over to her, introduces himself and sits down. 

They chat and in no time at all are really ‘hitting it off’. Everything is so perfect – they have so much in common. She laughs at his jokes – he loves the way she thinks and talks... he’s met the girl of his dreams! 

But, suddenly, she rings the bell and asks her fellow passenger to let her through. “What are you doing?” the man asks in disbelief? “Where are you going?” he blurts out. “This is my stop” the girl answers. The man is shocked. “But why are you getting off now? Your ticket is good for another 15 stops – till we get to the terminus in Pisgat Ze’ev!” “You don’t understand,” replied the girl. “This is my stop. This is where I get off”. And with those words, she was gone.

This was Barb’s stop. This is where she had to get off.

And so ended the story. But I’d like to add my own postscript.

You see, this man knew that the stop where the girl had alighted was not her final destination. Sometime later – maybe the same day, maybe in a couple of days or even weeks, she would make the journey back home... and he would wait for her, even though she might tarry. 

Yes, he would wait for the love of his life.

Better than a thousand "I love you"s

Some years ago I took to reading a book by Rabbi Shalom Arush (and translated into English by one of my rebbes, Rabbi Lazer Brody) titled, “The Garden of Peace”. It’s a marriage guide for men and it stands on two principles:

1. A husband should never criticise or comment negatively about his wife under any circumstance; and

2. The wife must know that she holds first place in her husband’s universe – that she is the most important part of his life.

I can honestly say that from the moment that I started to implement these two principles our relationship went from very good to wonderful.

A few weeks before all this business kicked off, I overhead my wife saying the following to one of my children (while unaware that I could hear her):

“I know that I am number one in Abba’s life”.

Hearing Barb say that was better than hearing a thousand “I love you”s. 

And there's a companion book for the wife, too...

Death is Nothing at All

Death Is Nothing At All

By Henry Scott-Holland

Death is nothing at all.

It does not count.

I have only slipped away into the next room.

Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.

I am I, and you are you,

and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.

Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.

Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.

Put no difference into your tone.

Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.

Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.

Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same as it ever was.

There is absolute and unbroken continuity.

What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

I am but waiting for you, for an interval,

somewhere very near,

just round the corner.

All is well.

Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.

One brief moment and all will be as it was before.

How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

Sent to me by my mate Stu

Thank you, Hashem

מה אשיב ל'ה, כל תגמלוהי עלי

How can I repay Hashem for all His kindness to me? (Psalm 116:12)

Along this most terrible and painful journey, Hashem’s loving touch was plain to see. It is incumbent upon me to express my appreciation by mentioning some of the kindnesses that come to mind.

1. 31 wonderful years. I wanted and anticipated so many more – 50, 60+... but some people don’t even get a fraction of what we had, so I thank Hashem. I said a number of times that I would have preferred 51 mediocre years instead of 31 wonderful ones, but now I’m not so sure. 

2. 24/7/365 – we both worked mainly from home. We never tired of each other’s company. Thank you, Hashem, for giving us such a happy marriage.

3. 2 ¼ years ago, Hashem made it possible for us to make aliyah. We truly ‘lived the dream’ every day we were down here together. Without doubt, these have been the best 2 ¼ years of our lives. So, again, thank you, Hashem.

4. Hashem brought 3 of our 4 children to Israel. He settled our daughter (with her family) 200 metres away and a year later he brought our eldest son and his family and settled them 100 metres away. Our youngest, recently married, lives a bus ride away in Jerusalem. Our youngest daughter is spending more of her time here. Thank you, Hashem! How on earth did you do that?!

5. With all our grandchildren within a 200 metre radius, not a day went by when we didn’t spend time with one or more of them. What pleasure this gave my wife. Thank you, Hashem.

6. This terrible chapter took place in the space of one month, from start to finish. But sometimes a person will leave their home in the morning and be ‘taken away’ in an instant, G-d forbid. Even though this broke our hearts, Hashem, thank you for letting us be around the bed at the end.

7. Barb never found out how sick was. She never asked the doctors the crucial questions. As far as she was concerned, she would improve, get out of hospital, travel in weekly for chemotherapy and then recover at home. At the end, she was sedated and never knew that she was slipping away, so she never had a moment of fear. Thank you, Hashem, for hiding the seriousness of her situation from my darling wife.

8. Thank you, Hashem, for sparing my wife from losing her beauty – her hair, her strength, her sharpness of mind – which would have followed as day follows night. Also, thank you, Hashem, for sparing her from the surgery that was scheduled for some time down the line...

9. Thank you, Hashem, for the wonderful, personal and loving treatment we received from the staff at Shaarei Zedek. They treated us like friends, not patients. They did everything they could. The first thing the department head told me was that if our insurance didn’t cover our bills, the hospital would meet our all our costs.

10. And most of all, THANK YOU Hashem for getting us to the wedding and home again. It was only through your incredible loving kindness that you let my wife fulfil her dream of walking our son together to the chupa. In both of the previous weddings we had been blessed to make, the mothers escorted the bride and the fathers the groom. Barb was so happy when she found out that the custom in Milwaukee is for the parents to escort their child. Had this illness started just one day – perhaps half a day earlier, I doubt whether we would have made it onto the plane. Our son would have been walked to the chupa by his older brother and sister and Barb and I would have watched broken hearted from home... and the result would have been the same. So, my Father, although you took my source of all my simcha, you took us to the simcha – and you didn’t have to. Thank you, a million times. 

And you also got us home. Had our flight been a day later, perhaps half a day later, we would not have made it on to the plane. We would have been stuck in the US – with no medical insurance. The moment we became aware of Barb’s condition in Israel, our medical insurance was voided. If we would have been stuck in the US, the result would have been the same, but we would have lost our house to pay the medical bills. So, again, thank you, Hashem. You saved us from financial devastation.