Yesterday evening, at the end of Shabbat, I was informed that Rabbi Chaim had passed away. He collapsed in the synagogue and died almost immediately. This news was received by me and my coworkers with complete shock and great tears.
Of course, we immediately traveled to Bnei Brak and listened to your rabbi eulogize you and cry… Every word was said with great pain and disbelief, because you are no more.
Our Rabbi Chaim was a unique person. There are no more people like him.
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It's hard to explain in words what was so special about him, because he touched so many areas. To me, he was much more than a straight-forward and honest kosher supervisor in the factory. He was much more than a dedicated tax collector for the synagogue. And also more than a volunteer in every free moment in Rabbi Firr's organization, which gave him immense satisfaction.
He was an example and role model of a husband who loves, appreciates, and cares for his wife; a father who is totally connected to his children; a grandfather who is 'crazy' about his grandchildren. He was the definition of the word "righteous" for me.
Somehow here at the factory we found a common language many years ago. His appearance, which resembled my father's, the Yiddish, the similar foods, the similar customs from my mother's house, and more, and since then, I would do many bureaucratic things for him, share my personal life with him - and he never judged. He always listened, asked, was interested.
He told me about his extended family abroad, about his childhood in the shadow of the family bakery abroad, about his immigration to Israel. He shared his life with me through all his requests for help. I got to know the rabbis he respected, his dear wife, his daughters, and his son. I married his granddaughter with him, and on every holiday I fulfilled his whims with him, all through his requests, of course.
There wasn't a single workday that he didn't find time to come to me. Whether it was just to ask how I was doing or if it was with requests from me, one more paper, one more correction, one more whim that wasn't always understandable to me, but was most important to him. More than once I didn't have time, but I would never refuse. Because that was life...
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For a long time he had a small dream, to reunite his family for a weekend. All together.
We talked about it many times, discussed how it could come to fruition - and it took time...
Hesitations on his part and encouragement on my part: "Do it now, Haim, don't wait any longer.".
A few weeks ago, Rabbi Chaim fulfilled his dream - and I was happy to be a part of all his preparations.
His excitement before the weekend, and the immense feeling of satisfaction and pride after the weekend, was such that it could not be translated into words.
I'm glad he left at least that to his family before he died. An amazing memory. An amazing Shabbat, a parting gift.
There aren't many people like Rabbi Chaim. And maybe because he was like that, his heart broke.
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His day would often start in the middle of the night. He wouldn't agree to let the factory start making certain products without him. After that, he would run around the offices, treating us to water, coffee - and listening to everyone with their troubles.
He ran between all the seats, for various tests, and didn't miss a single ride. He would take us to mourners' funerals, and now we have to comfort his family.
Every errand we asked him to do, every help he gave us, was answered positively. Whether it was delivering a package or driving a sick employee home; whether it was helping one of us with something private or connecting a patient with Rabbi Firr - something that took up precious time, but he always answered positively and helped with all his heart.
After a long day at work, he would drive home to see what his wife needed, and from there he never gave up volunteering for her, in Rabbi Firer's organization. He dedicated his life to the synagogue and to many mitzvot and good deeds.
Rabbi Chaim, I am proud to have had the privilege of helping a special person like you, of getting to know you closely and serving you, of being a virtual part of the 'Kahn dynasty.'.
I miss you already. Today you didn't come in to see how my weekend went and tell me about yours. Which of the girls was it, which of the grandchildren was it, how many hours did you manage to rest, and until what time on Friday did you wait for Rabbi Firer to help another patient. You will be missed by many here at the factory.
We had to plan another amazing weekend like this for your family. We said we'd think of new ideas to surprise them. I asked for pictures from the weekend, I wanted to surprise you with a digital album (remember how excited you were about the album I showed you that I made) - and I didn't have time. I apologize for that.
The heart cries, cries, cries and hurts. You are too much of a loss. Not a person who would be easy to move on without for anyone who knew you closely.
Please watch over me from above.
May your memory be blessed.
