Shmuel Ben Moshe Dovid, z'l. My dad.

This morning, we completed the shiva for my dad, R. Shmuel ben Moshe Dovid, z'l. He passed away on 13 Kislev, Thanksgiving evening, after a long illness. He died peacefully, with no pain, at home, surrounded by his children and grandchildren.

My dad came to America from Romania in 1937. He served in the US Army, mostly in North Africa, from 1942 until the end of the Second World War. He worked very hard and honestly for over 50 years to provide for his wife and family. He left four children, 11 grandchildren and 13 great grandchildren (so far), BA"H.

This is part of what I said at the levayah (funeral):

It is customary to refer to your father as Avi, Mori; my father, my teacher. That, indeed, was the essence of what my dad was.

He taught us both concrete things and abstract concepts. He taught us to throw a softball and he taught us to be erliche Yiddin. He taught us a love of baseball and he taught us to be menches. He taught us the importance of being physically fit and he taught us the importance of being real. He taught us to swim and he taught us the power of music. He taught us the importance of a smile and a good word. He taught us about the sweetness of Shabbos. He taught us z'miros in three-part harmony. He taught us that it was more important to get out of the Shea Stadium parking lot quickly than whether or not the Mets won. He taught us that if you walk at a fast pace you get to where you are going more quickly. He taught us to give tzedakah in a tzniusdik way. He taught us the importance of being oskai Tzorchei Tzibur B’Emunah. He taught us the importance of being on time, especially for appointments with the Ribbono Shel Olam. He taught that it was not beneath his sons or grandsons to do the laundry, clear off the table or wash the pots. He taught us a love for Eretz Yisrael. He taught us never, ever, to raise our voices, especially to our loved ones. He taught us how much a person can overcome in life just by force of will and determination.

And, he taught us all this without ever darshaning or giving mussar. Indeed, he taught us all this by hardly saying a word. He taught us all this simply by the way he conducted himself. He understood on a very simple level that he was a Ben Melech, a child of the King, and conducted himself accordingly.

My father was a very special man and we will miss him dearly. I take comfort from the pasuk in Tehillim that I was reading last Sunday night when we thought he was about to leave us. Yodai’ah Hashem Yimai Timmim, V’nachalasam L’Olam Tihiyeh. “Hashem recognizes the days of the righteous and their inheritance will be forever.” The Even Ezra says that nachalasam, the inheritance of the righteous, refers to their children and grandchildren through the generations. The Radak says that nachalasam refers to their olam habah.

May Hashem grant my father the olam habah that he so richly deserves and may he be a meilitz yasher for all of his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren and all the generations to come.

On Shabbos, the day after the funeral, I had tremendous chalishas hadas. While I talked about how great a teacher my father was, I didn't talk about what kind of student I was. Reflecting on this, I realized how far I had to go before I measured up. I have a lot of work to do.

The shiva was a very holy time. Perhaps I will write about it soon. So many people from our past came to confirm all the beautiful things that the Rabbi and my siblings said about my dad at the levayah. It gave us (especially my mom, whom my dad adored for every day of their 57 year marriage) great comfort.