Rest in Peace, FIL

My father in law Richard was a true survivor in every sense of the word. First, through feats of derring do, and tales out of the wildest Hollywood movies, he survived years of the Holocaust, as a prisoner and slave laborer of Nazi camps. Then, he survived not just battle, but special forces missions during the Israeli Independence War of 1948. He was chosen for SF because he was a war orphan, and single, and so the budding military's brass figured no one was left to grieve in the likely event he was killed. Fast forward over 40 years, to his much more prosaic life in Miami. He was married, with a single daughter he revered and prized, and this daughter, Wifey, had now given him a grandchild. The folks in Bethlehem and Jerusalem supposedly made a big deal when a baby was born to a virgin mother about 2016 years ago -- this was probably the equivalent to what Richard felt when D1 was born. Anyway, he passed out while cutting his lawn, and went to his long time doctor, who immediately sent him to Baptist Hospital with about to be fatal heart disease. I sent to VHS films of his tests to Dr. Eric, in training in Boston, and he called and said "He needs the surgery NOW!" So he underwent a quadruple bypass, and came through fine, and afterwards I asked his surgeon, the fine Brazilian fellow Dr. Cesar Brea his prognosis. He replied my FIL would probably have "another 10 good years or so." That was 1989. The surgeon and primary doc each passed years ago, and Richard kept on keepin' on. Part of it was how he cared for himself like, as the Cubans say, a gallo fino, or fine rooster. But I know the real reason is he was truly a survivor. In the 33 years I knew him, I never had a real conversation with Richard. He simply couldn't -- he communicated by barking, and really couldn't listen. There were no talks about life, or career, or, certainly, philosophy. But he made damn sure I knew how much he loved Wifey and my Ds by his actions: "David --did you check the tire pressure? Get good oil only!" He wanted to make sure I kept our women safe, at all times. I did. We moved him to Miami Jewish several months after my Mom became a resident. Richard adored my mother, and would insist their wheelchairs be parked adjacent when we'd get together for meetings in my Mom's beloved gazebo. He'd hold her hand, and my frail Mom would find this painful. When Mom died, in April of 2013, Richard mourned, and kept repeating her final moments, over and over: "She opened de eyes, she closed de eyes, opened, and closed..." And again his survivor instincts kicked in. The average nursing home stay is, as my Mom followed, less than a year. Richard lasted over two and a half, with two hospitalizations to Mt. Sinai, the last a long stint in Intensive Care. After that final one, in July, we decided there would be no more, and called hospice. They took over his care, and I thought the end would come soon. That was half a year ago. Saturday night, Wifey and I went to a lovely neighborhood gathering, a havdala service, which says goodbye to the weekly sabbath. We walked home, and as it was cool, but not cold, Wifey sat with me on our patio, as I lit a fire in my firepit. We talked, and laughed, and her phone kept ringing, with a number she thought was a recurring wrong one from a realtor. She finally answered, and it was the hospice at Miami Jewish -- Richard had died at 10:15. I called the funeral home at, it turned out, the wrong number. So Riverside picked up his body, when the contract was with Levitt. Even in death, it seems, there are mixups. I finally got it sorted out, and Wifey and I drove to Hollywood to make the final arrangements. Even though it was pre paid, they got us for an extra $500, as I knew they would -- shroud, special washing, etc... I thought of my Dad and his hatred for the funeral industry, which led him to cremation -- Mom, too. We then had to go to my mother in law's condo, and break the news to her. She took it...terribly. Even though her husband was dying for so long, and is over 90, I guess after a 67 year marriage, it's still a shock. Wifey had her pack a bag, and is with us for a week. We dropped her off at home, and Wifey's sister of another mother Edna came. She flew immediately from Atlanta -- the only one Wifey wanted at the funeral. Wifey knew that dealing with her mother would be such a headache, she wanted no further hassles, and so made it clear NO ONE else was to attend the funeral. We left mother in law home, to talk at Edna, and went to the cemetery. We confirmed the small chunk of real estate my in laws purchased, part of the Temple Beth Am section. It's funny -- they never would have been able to join that expensive congregation, and in the end they'll get to rest among all the big shots and movers and shakers of Miami... D2 was snowed in in NYC, and couldn't make it. She's arriving Thursday, and will spend the weekend with her grandmother, and us. And so we gathered in out tiny group, in a day of spectacularly beautiful weather. Rabbi Yossi officiated. I spoke, and D1 spoke, and Wifey read a letter from Ds, and added some heartfelt words about her Daddy. And then we shoveled the earth -- lots of it -- as this was an orthodox "full burial" where the family and friends must cover the casket before it is sealed. 90 years of a colorful life, one that truly was a microcosm of modern Jewry -- surviving the Holocaust, fighting to create Israel, and living the American dream. Rabbi Yossi noted that for a man who spent so much of his early life surrounded by people who hate and destroy, he spent the rest of his life building a nation, his family, and showering them with love. And so it was with my father in law, Richard. May his memory be as a blessing. It will for my family, guaranteed.