Shloshim, the 30 day period that marks the end of mourning for all relatives except a parent, finished two weeks ago. I am so thankful that I made it to this age without previously being in aveilus (mourning). I am also in awe of the way that Judaism guides us through the 7 day-, 30 day-, and full year after the death of a loved one....
Although it was hard to leave my Mom and siblings, Shalom Shachne and I came home for the final two days of shiva and it was nice to be supported by the people where we live. I also think it would have felt very.....odd.....to come home after shiva and have everything be "normal".
The kids had put up photos of my Dad on the door (hoorah for Israel's super-safe metal doors that also double as magnet holders) and they are still there. I really love looking at the photos and have no plans for them to take them down any time soon.
So, shloshim:
--for thirty days I did not wear makeup (my SuperStay24 lipstick habit might have permanently gone out the window [at least while we still wear masks]). No haircuts or trimming nails, either.
--I did not publicly listen to music (I did listen on headphones while running). This also meant that Shalom Shachne, who recently received the incredible birthday gift of a complete refurbishing of his beloved high school saxophone (way to go, Chana, Steve and Jeff!) did not play his saxophone, and SS and Chana only played piano with headphones on. Because we're in this as a team.
--we did not invite any guests for Shabbos nor did we go out for meals. In extreme Covid irony, we went out for Shabbos lunch after shloshim ended and our host called 1.5 days later saying she had just gotten a positive Covid test......
--at the end of shloshim, Shalom Shachne made a siyyum on a portion of learning (seder Nashim) he had finished and spoke about my Dad. I was very touched at the comments people made afterward. Here is a brief sample of what he said:
I’m making a siyum לעילולי נשמת נתן ועלוועל בן בעריל, my father-in-law, Norman Zagorsky who passed away a little more than a month ago.
He was a person of strong and good character, who became quite successful in business. He went to work for a synagogue friend who had started a small catalog company, and together they built a $200 million business that went public, opening 150 stores throughout the US.
Norman’s nickname was “Norman the Negotiator”. He had the ability to make deals that seemed impossible to normal people (like me). He accomplished this through a combination of traits:
fearlessness -- willingness to make seemingly outrageous offers, and also a willingness to start at the top. His first call would be to the president of the company, no matter how large the corporation.
a belief in the fundamental fairness of a good deal -- both parties need to get enough value out of it. If he convinced someone to sell for ½ his original price, it was because the other side was still making a profit.
and also the ability to develop a good relationship with the person he was negotiating with. He said that it was his goal that, after getting everything he wanted out of the deal, the other person would want to go out to dinner with him.
A lot more could be said about his accomplishments in business, but there are two aspects of his character which are examples for all of us.
He grew up in financially meager circumstances in Chelsea, a suburb of Boston, and worked for his father’s and uncle’s glass business every day after coming home from school. His father sent him out to do estimates for glass installations even from a very young age.
One day, the glass business got a big break: contractors constructing a large building wanted an estimate to install glass shower doors for all the apartments. This was the biggest job they had ever estimated and the contractor was shocked when my father-in-law, who was 15 years-old, showed up to do the estimate. However, everything proceeded smoothly, until the contractor asked Norman a final question: “will all the shower doors be perfect?”. Norman answered truthfully, saying that the glass doors always came out of the factory with a few small imperfections, and so it was impossible to guarantee they would all be perfect.
A few days later the contractor phoned the glass shop and told Norman’s father how impressed he was with his professionalism. But, he said, they would have to give the job to another company who had promised that there would be no flaws in the glass. My father-in-law’s truthfulness cost him the biggest business deal that their small company would ever have.
In שמים, one of the big 3 questions we are asked is: נשאת ונתת באמונה? Did we deal faithfully in business? It’s easy to be honest when it costs nothing, but to be willing to lose a big deal that could make your life more comfortable, requires real integrity and courage.
One last point before the סיום: my father-in-law’s highest priority was always his family -- whether it was his children, grand-children, cousins, or even just friends of the family. He was always looking for ways to help improve their lives -- whether it was showing up with some tools to do house repairs (as he did many times for us), or calling the president of some company which had treated one of his family members unfairly, or providing financial support for a family member’s education or business venture. I hope that I will eventually be able to live up to his example with my own family and friends.
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--So now we are on to the rest of the year of mourning. I still find that I want to tell my Dad something and realize I'm not able to do that by picking up the phone. Don't know if that's going to go away anytime too soon.....
I am learning about how my year will be structured in order to give honor my father and our relationship: this kind of mourning is done exactly twice in a person's life. My friend's daughter is getting married this week; I may attend the chuppah ceremony only, not the meal or dancing. On Purim this year I will get no mishloach manot gift baskets (they can be addressed to us as a family, though). Throughout this year, I will buy no new clothes (bringing to light just how often I used to pop in to one of the stores in the mercaz and bring home "just a little something". The night before I left for Boston, when we knew my father was nearing the end of his life, I ran to the mall to get a new turtleneck to protect against the Boston cold. I got two different colors and one I did, indeed, wear the week of shiva. And one will wait patiently for me for next winter. When I will probably cry putting it on for the first time).
