On Friday, minutes before the start of Shabbat, my grandmother, Grandma Olga, passed away at the age of 91.
If it seemed that longevity was a mitigating factor, the pain appeared and did not cease to plague me, from Saturday night - then the news arrived, and until Rosh Hashanah.
The good and righteous grandmother, lover of peace, joy, and goodness, is no longer with us. How can this be, after all, she was a part of our lives, a corner of warmth and love integral to our Shabbat meals, holidays, and everyday life?
One after another, images flash before me: Grandma holding a bucket into which Grandpa pours the drops of wine in "Spoh Hamtech", Grandma preparing fine food for everyone for dozens of hours, Grandma running after one of her grandchildren with a fork and a "last bite", Grandma walking to the synagogue every Shabbat and praying with the innocence of women who are no longer seen.
How do you deal with the passing of a loved one with whom you lived for forty years?
On Yom Kippur night, we return from prayer and Grandma persuades everyone to go to bed, not to waste time on vanity and thoughts about food and drink.
She asks to talk about happy things, to maintain a good atmosphere at home, not to darken it.
She reads Psalms every day, 'There's nothing like reading the Book of Psalms,' she says every time.
Her kind eye gently pours blessings on the heads of everyone she meets, she just hopes that he will get married, that he will have a son, that he will be healthy. Healthy.
""I just want health for my children and grandchildren," she once told me when she prayed for one of them.
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She never complained, she was the one who cried to her, who asked for her help. Her strength, which was simple, firm and stable, stemmed from a strong faith in God, in goodness, and in hope.
In a generation of Prozac and Cipralex, it's hard to grasp where these strong people came from. Characters who, even after the hardships of a life that lasts nearly a century, and includes growing up in Beirut, Lebanon, upheavals and living in Africa for a living, the austerity period, the Israeli wars in which their loved ones participated - manage to maintain a high, clean, pure, happy and hopeful soul.
When Grandpa got sick, she cared for him with dedication, without compromise. Her presence everywhere was a blessing.
Besides the fact that she helped with all the household chores, and with real aggression did not allow the young granddaughters to wash dishes, for example, she also created an atmosphere of joy. She was so pleasant.
Even her death was peaceful. About a month ago she suffered a stroke, and after a short period of time she passed away.
May her beloved memory be blessed.
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