My mother in law Rachel died last night, at the Palace, in Kendall. She had just passed the 97.5 year mark. She had stopped drinking anything on Tuesday, and lapsed into unconsciousness, so we knew the end was imminent. But a person's death is still shocking, and Wifey cried and cried deeply last night, as she was with her mother as she took her final breath.
I had left Wifey at the Palace for the vigil, and drove back close to 11 pm. Since Rachel was under the care of Vitas Hospice, they had to be the authority to pronounce her, and about midnight an affable fellow arrived -- their chaplain. He asked if we were Christian and wished to pray, and I told him thanks, but we were all set in that Department -- the prayers were similar, but we don't talk about the son, only Dad. He understood. The also affable driver came from the funeral company, and after the paperwork was done, explained that they would be taking Rachel's body to a facility in North Miami Beach, and from there to the cemetery in Kendall when we had a date and time for the burial. We're hoping it takes place tomorrow afternoon -- our Rabbi Yossi Harlig is coming back from a Brooklyn wedding, so Hashem and Delta Airlines willing, he'll make it home tomorrow.
What a life Rachel had! She was born 12/15/24 in Sosnowiecz, Poland, sort of a small industrial city. She was one of 7 siblings, and had a loving, wonderful childhood. Her father was a flour salesman, who sold to local bakeries, and they were solidly middle class, by pre War Poland standards. But when Rachel was a teenager, the ugly Winds of War came, and the Nazis took everyone. Rachel's entire world of people were brutally murdered, except for one younger brother Alter, who, like Rachel, miraculously survived concentration camps and slave labor camps.
After she was liberated, Rachel went to a DP camp in Feldafing, Germany. There she learned her third language, German, to go along with her native Polish and Yiddish. Hebrew and English would follow -- fully fluent in 5! languages. After Feldafing, Rachel emigrated to Haifa, and joined the IDF. There she met a tall, handsome soldier in Special Forces, my father in law Richard. They would marry and together fight for the creation of the State of Israel.
Rachel desperately wanted a child, but couldn't conceive. Finally she became pregnant, but tragically had a still born son in 1952. In later years, this seemed more tragic to her than the Holocaust -- she talked wistfully about that baby who was not to be. She and Richard saw "Professors" in Jerusalem, I guess early fertility specialists, and they were not optimistic. But then, just like the miracle birth in Israel in December some 2050 years ago, there was an even BIGGER one in 1956 -- a beautiful blue eyed baby girl, who would become Wifey someday -- 30 years later, to be exact.
Life in Israel was tough, and Rachel and Richard had surviving siblings in the US, and so emigrated here in 1960. They first moved to Miami, and then NY. Wifey was, for a time, literally a kid in a candy store, as her father owned one in Garden City Park, and they lived behind it. When Wifey was entering dating age, they feared the lack of Jewish boys, and so moved to Canarsie, where there were more of them. Being tone deaf about practical things, they then decided to pull Wifey out of school in the middle of her junior year at high school in Brooklyn, and relocate back to Miami, in 1972. Wifey was no worse for the wear, making friends at Killian High School, and ultimately meeting a barely legal boy when she was living in Kendall. That was me -- the original boy toy.
Anyway, Rachel got a job that she loved -- working at gift wrap at Burdines in Dadeland Mall. She took great pride in her work, and had customers who would only let her wrap their items. Her years there led to a comically small pension -- from Macy's, which bought Burdines. She receives about $30 per month.
Rachel and Richard retired around the time D1 was born. Oh how they adored their granddaughter, as well as D2 who came three years later. They moved to Century Village in Pembroke Pines, where several of their fellow Holocaust Survivor card playing partners (not friends, as Richard always made sure I understood) had relocated.
And Wifey took her parents on their private March of the Living, and later, took Rachel alone back to Poland. She loved it. Though Poland was the place that took so much from her, it was also the place of a happy childhood and early adolescence.
My father in law was diagnosed with Alzheimers in his mid 80s, and we moved him to Miami Jewish Home. Rachel, through rides arranged by Wifey, visited him several times each week. Right after he died, in January of '16, she insisted she MUST move -- it was THEIR apartment, and she wanted to spend no more time there. Of course, she had lived there for years when Richard in Miami Jewish, but Rachel sometimes had her own internal logic.
So Wifey redecorated a 2 bedroom condo we owned in Palmetto Bay, after we kicked out the nice schlumpy tenant who had been there nearly 10 years. Poor Lenny -- he had come to really feel the place was his, because I never raised the rent. I reminded him we were month to month, and it was time to go. He sadly moved away.
After a year, Rachel HATED living alone in the apartment. It was time for the Palace, a luxury ALF in Kendall. She lived there most of 4 years, but began to decline, sadly. Finally, 4 months ago we switched her to the nursing home, and the decline continued.
She did get to meet her great grandson, even through the Covid restrictions at the Palace. The two of them locked eyes outside on the patio. They had a connection, even though Rachel was already losing it. They smiled at each other.
I like to think the enormity of surviving the Shoah long enough to have a great grandchild resonated with my mother in law. It was really something.
Fast forward to last night. Vitas Hospice was short staffed, and the nurse leaving at 7 said she would be back in the am, but no one was there to sit bedside. So Wifey did -- I drove in a nasty T storm to Publix and CVS, bought her a phone charger and some dinner. I got a dozen donuts for the Palace nurses.
I drove home, and called the funeral folks -- to see about transport. While I was on the phone with them, Wifey clicked in -- Rachel had died.
Wifey was balling. She had never been in the presence of someone dying. It was peaceful, and yet shocking.
I drove over and we waited for the hospice rep to arrive -- they had to pronounce the death. A very nice Baptist chaplain came to do the task. He asked if we wanted to pray with him. We said thanks, but different team. He understood. The transport man was there, and we left as they were taking Rachel to a facility in NMB I called the hotel for dead people.
This am I spoke to the funeral director -- we're set for burial at noon tomorrow. Rabbi Yossi is coming on an early flight -- he's due home by 10. He has a backup rabbi in case his flight doesn't make it. He also is a wise guy -- he suggested maybe Mark Kram as a backup rabbi -- knowing that Kram bolted out a week before he was to marry Wifey and me back in '87 for a last minute free trip. Kran soured us on organized Judaism for years -- until our friendship with Yossi and Nechama. The Lord works in mysterious ways.
Anyway, if all goes as planned, the Ds, Jonathan, Joey, Wifey and I (not sure about the adorable grandson) will gather and bury Rachel next to the love of her life -- my father in law. They were married nearly 70 years.
Wow. What a long, long, meaningful life. Years ago, Wifey's friend Maureen had Rachel over for a lunch with people studying the Holocaust. They asked Rachel how she survived. She replied: "Because I am an optimist. I always look forward to things getting better." And so they did. And she leaves a beautiful legacy, literally out of the ashes.
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