It is sad when people get sick, especially those whom you are close to.
I don't remember my grandfather on my mother's side, he died when I was 2 and a half , and I was never close with my grandparents on my dad's side. But I am close with my grandmother on my mom's side.
My earliest memories of her are somehow forged by real memories combined with what I was told. I vaguely remember going with Neti to Tel Aviv. We went in the big taxi, we went to the bank where my granddad used to work and visited the safe room. My grandma always told me that they all loved me at the bank and gave me treats. Well at the time I was short (very short for my age) blond and cute (today I am simply not tall, not blond and cute is debatable). One other trip I recall in those days was to the amusement park on the 1st floor of the Kolbo shalom building, they had a small park which is closed now and has been for years. She lived in Azur at the time in a small apartment in a big complex. One thing I definitely remember (and should forget) is an event occurring on one specific night.
Peeing my bed. I assume I had more cases but I recall just this one, and it happened at my grandmother's house, she never yelled , just replaced the sheets. I must have been 4-5 at the time, not later, since later, she moved to Ra'anana.
my grandma was a very good cook, known mostly for her chocolate cake, but I remember chicken soup , schnitzel, mash potatoes and things which I never liked, for example borsht, sour green pepper or Mamaliga.
I recall her taking me home after kindergarten, since she lived minutes away. I always liked being there, listen to her telling stories. In the past she never told much about her past, it's been years where she would stick to the same subjects about the past and only revealing more things in the last year.
She always knew god would take care of us like he did her in the awful days of the holocaust.
I probably have more memories from those years without being sure at what year it actually took place.
The next one is a confession.
In general I was a very good kid but once a year I had a bad event (not every year, but 3 out of the six in elementary school).
This was on a weekend probably. My parents were abroad or on holiday and I was staying with my grandma. One afternoon I was at school with some other kids, some of them older (7th grade, I was 3rd or 4th) and hung around, till they began throwing stones at windows at the school, breaking them. I don't really understand why I joined but I did, and remember breaking some windows (with my excellent shooting skills , I probably didn't break the windows I was aiming at, but that didn't change the result). Some one squealled and I was called to the principal's office and I was supposed to pay 50 shekels (which is less then price of windows at the time. Lucky I wasn't older, I believe they wanted to have the older kids brought on juvenile criminal charges, I don't know if they did or not.
So I was supposed to pay up, and I didn't have allowance at the time, so couldn't even cover up my crimes, lucky I was at my grandma that week, and in tears (not uncommon for me in those years) I went into her room and asked her for the money. She laughed, calmed me down and gave me the cash. To this day I don't know if she told my parents or not, but I will know the answer will come soon (since my parents receive this blog!!!).
She used to put on records, and our joint favorite was Ghinghis Kahn, we danced for this one in circles. I wanted to honor her at the wedding with this song, but she didn't feel up to it, too bad.
During the 7th grade I moved to junior high and her house was on the way from our house to the school, and many times after school I went to her house. I guess I enjoyed the attention, and didn't want to be home. That year my parents divorced and thought I don't remember them arguing till they actually broke up, I must have sensed something and stayed away.
The above part was written 2 months ago when I came back to Israel after my grandmother's stroke
It was hard seeing her then, with no movement on the right side, she was already barely walking before, her sight was fading well before that which was the main reason why she chose to not live anymore, she used to read a lot, in the last years she switched to biographies and books on philosophy , I think Sartre was her favorite. She was a reader, a thinker , a debater, till the last year she kept up to date with current events, culture and was very knowledgeable with history, a very educated woman , speaker of 5 languages (Latin, Romanian, German, English and Hebrew).
When she was recovering from the stroke, all I could do was talk to her and hold her hand, she tried to talk back but was unable too, I was told she spoke little on some days when she felt strong, but I was not privileged. Going back to the US was hard since I believed I would not see her again. This last year before the stroke we spoke on a weekly basis and I was always sad after the call thinking this may be the last time, her goodbyes were longer, she kept verifying that I was happy with my choice to move and that I had a happy home, that was the most important thing to her, Us.
She always spoke of the miracles of her life, but she didn't give much details, she didn't want to make us feel sad. I know some details , but not all.
War world 2 was raging and the Germans occupied Chernovinchi in Romania of those days. It's good that she lived in Romania, the Romanians did not cooperate with the Germans like the pollards or Ukrainians. But the Germans found out about her and family. They lived on the 3rd floor, when the Germans came they looked for Janet (the real name)or Neti (the nick name), but the neighbors knew of the other name so they skipped her. The terror they felt is something I can only imagine, since capture was likely death. They lived, my grandparents and her cousin. They survived, my grand dad and her cousin are buried in the same cemetery, it was her wish to be buried with them, that will take place tomorrow.
Her family had a factory for buttons, funny enough, who would think that you can make a living making buttons, but I guess you can. I wish I knew more so this story will not have so many gaps.
Her best friend Berta was taken by the Germans. One day in 1942 she came back from the camps, and they night they decided to flee and cross the border to Russian occupied territories. They were captured at the border by Russian troops. They let them go (back, not through) only with heavy bribes , but they tried again the next night and succeeded, making it to Bucharest.
If you ask my grandmother which is worse (for her), Hitler or Stalin, she would say Stalin. She was not hiding in the 3rd floor all the time, they were free but with day to day danger of exile to Siberia, a probable one way ticket in those days. She told me about a day when they were walking in the street without papers (they had them, just not on them, much like me) and were stopped by a few soldiers, if you are caught without papers then you are automatically considered a spy, or worse and sent to Siberia, one of the soldiers asked them to get out any piece of paper from their pockets and examine it, that paper was not a passport, just a random piece, the soldier examined it and let them pass. She was unable to say if that soldier was Romanian, or Jewish or why he didn't bust them when he obviously could, reason unknown but that was another miracle in her book.
For 19 years they waited in Romania till they were allowed to leave (it happened when comrade Stalin finally died) , even then it was almost impossible. The paper work is difficult, and it's enough that one clerk doesn't like you and you cannot go. Someone whom I don't know tried to prevent them to leave and filed a complaint, a sure thing to get you to remain. When they checked the papers the complaint was filed on house number 14, while they were in 13 or the other way around, this simple clerical error saved their lives and they were able to finally depart. She considered this another miracle.
Even then things were not that easy, my mom recalls the crossing- she had 2 skirts, the border crossing guard checked them and found 2 skirts, and told them that you are allowed only one, and took one (for his kids), my mom was 7 at the time- today this thing would seem inconceivable, but it's still happening in many countries with a lot worse things taken, we learned nothing.
My grandfather was a pharmacist by education but a lawyer by profession, don't ask me how, they did things different then.
NetIQ had a wonderful surprise after the war, when her family crossed to Romania and reunited in Bucharest, they brought her dog Fifi (a white Samoyed) with them, ever heard of a dog surviving world 2?
When they came over to Israel in 1961 things were still hard, they went to Ulpan in Ashkelon, then moved to Giva'at shemuel where they lived in a shed, but it was close to Tel Aviv and my grandfather found a job at the bank. Hard but free of persecution and every day fear of walking down the street. The Lived in Azur from that point on till around 1983 when she moved to Ra'anana where we lived.
She was always strong, she was always sure of her convictions, she disliked Shimon Peres and liked to debate politics with my brother shai. She did not like Obama either.
One thing she always had was chocolate (1 (of the many) causes of my weight gaining. It's the same regular chocolate we have today but it was in the form of triangles, each with another drawing of some cartoon on it. I used to melt I next to the heater and suck it in , just before it oozed to the floor… treat, I did it only there, don't know why.
She always liked dogs and after fifi in the war came bonny for about 12-14 years. When bonny died, she was about 70 and didn't want another dog, but Jacky came along and she used to walk with him and I think this activity kept her well in shape. When Jacky died 10 years later, she said that at age 80 she was too old for a dog , but we didn't listen and Bamba came along. Bamba has large ears, and they seemed larger when she was a pup, so we said she looked like Dambo, my grandmother with a slight hearing problem heard Bamba and the name was chosen. Bamba is now an aging dog and we contemplate what to do with her , what is her next home (ours is optional).
She always assumed she was weak, she was worried about her heart but in the end we found her heart was the strongest. She gave up on life a few months ago, she didn't eat in over a month, and very little before that, she didn't drink in the last 2 weeks, refused to take meds, she refused to live and that is hard to witness, but her heart endured. The doctors were amazed by the fact that she still lived, this morning at 11:04 this morning her heart couldn't cope anymore and stopped as well.
Her health is a strange barometer for me, about 10 years ago, my parents were abroad as well and she was sick. She caught a rare virus called the Nile fever infection. Rare and very harming for the elderly.
Some months before I returned from my major trip aboard (NZ, Australia and Nepal) and returned at my skinniest weight in all my adult life, in the best of shape and mood (no money thought, spent it all), I was also completely in control of my coke (coca cola) addiction, I was training, doing good. Then in July, I tore my ham string muscle, very painful and I had to stay in bed (couch) by I still kept my weight and was in control.
Then she got sick, It was a very nervous evening while we called the paramedics , she was not speaking ,mumbling and we didn't know what happened, we followed her to the hospital and that night I couldn't stand it and drank coke (for me the effect is similar to a drunk going back to drinking), all my walls collapsed and in a year I gained so much weight and hit an all time high, my official reason for gaining was the hamstring injury, inability to run, but that was not it. She got sick, I got worse, it took her a couple of years to recover fully, it took me longer to control myself.
A few months ago I was studding Russian and was training to bounce myself back from my surgery over the summer, I was also again in control of my weight, which was not low but was receding slowly, the night I heard of the stroke, all activities stopped. There is no logical reason for such an effect on me, but it has. Now I need to learn to control myself bounce back, go back to lean, I know she would want that.
I have seen dead people once before, not in a funeral that is. It was in the army, the day I got shot myself (I was lucky) but I didn't see them die, that happened today.
I saw her this week, she was very weak, she couldn't even mawn, but she recognized us, I held her good hand and she squeezed it and she smiled, she was unable to do much else, but I knew she was happy, even in her state.
Today we we're called around 10 am, and ran over to her house (the next part is unpleasant, feel free to skip ahead) and she was choking. She had a pneumonia for the last 2 months, which got the better of her in the end, because she refused her meds. Her lungs were filled with liquid and her throat as well, and she was choking on these fluids, her eyes were glazed and seemed to stare at nothing, she couldn't move her hand, she was dying and too weak to cough.
We knew she chose to die, before the stroke she called my brother shai who was in Paris and willed him to put her dog Bamba down to sleep if she died, thinking no one will take as good of care of her like she did, this is the one wish of hers that we will ignore. Only after she did that and gave my mother her notebooks, only then (and this is after a stroke!) that she allowed them to take her to the hospital, after that she gave up.
So, knowing what we know, we didn't help, it's the most difficult thing I had to do is not help. I always try to think of others before myself, and for me not to help is hard, not to help my grandmother live, I don't know how I managed. It took her over 30 minutes to slowly choke to death in front of our eyes. In between she stopped breathing for 30 seconds intervals, then took a deep breath and kept choking, she did that 3 times, so hard to watch.
She took her last breath at כב בטבת תשעא December 29th at 11:04 am.
Mada (emergency services) came later, but we asked not to resuscitate , the doctor came over 3 hours later to call time of death, the police came (routine thing) and then she was taken to the mortuary and she will be buried tomorrow in Rishon, next to her husband.
I hope they read blogs in heaven, I hope she meets god, I know she wanted to.
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