My Grandfather & Nazis

Big Z and Looshie at Looshie's bris.

There's so much running through my brain right now that it's hard for me to put my thoughts into words but I'm going to try.

My grandfather went into the hospital on my anniversary - he was ill and very uncomfortable. Four days later he passed away. He died last Saturday, which coincided with the day Nazis decided to take over Charlottesville and were met with resistance.

I missed most of the action on the news because I was so focused on my ailing grandfather. I'm glad I did. Let me say it, again: I'm glad I missed the action. I was right where I needed to be.

In case you haven't figured it out, I'm Jewish. I come from a very long line of proud Jews and I'm the product of four Holocaust survivors.

I'm grateful my grandfather missed the insane action on Saturday.

He moved to this country with my grandmother and father after the Holocaust. He rebuilt his life, the community around him, and his family. He was one of those people who built a community of acceptance - he'd befriend you regardless of what you looked like.

The Nazis that took over Charlottesville would never consider him a friend or an American. But he was a true American. He never complained about paying taxes. All he wanted was a better life for his family - and I believe he made that possible by living in the US.

He'd be sickened by anyone saying anything about leftist this and conservative that. He'd tell you to meet in the middle because we have one common enemy - the Nazis, because they cannot win. As Jews, we understand there is hatred on both sides of the political spectrum, I feel it as an Israeli-American Jew. As Americans, we need to drop our other titles and just meet in the middle because Nazis hate everyone who isn't a Nazi. That is one of the greatest lessons my grandfather could teach me.

The other great lesson is that family is everything. So, rather than blogging, I spent time with my family. Granted, I felt emotionally drained and exhausted; and physically sick from the time he went into the hospital until, well, I still feel that way. I don't feel well at all.

I'm taking his death a lot harder than I thought I would. Sometimes I feel like I failed him by not visiting him or calling him enough. While I know it's not true, I still feel that way sometimes.

I miss him. And this feels a lot like when my mom died. He was a constant force in my life. A figure who was larger than life. He loved seeing my kids and especially loved when Yo would give him a kiss and a hug - unprovoked. He told me he felt like he won the lottery when Looshie would do it because that child didn't like anyone for the first three years of his life...and he's only four.

Zeidy was around for all 36 years of my life. He once told me he never had to worry about me because I was so much like my dad that he knew I could survive anywhere. He also told me I'd know when I met my match. He was right about both things.

He and my grandmother created the original #RelationshipGoals for us. Who wouldn't want to be married to their best friend for 65+ years?? I certainly do.

Zeidy also taught me to be vocal about my frustrations and concerns. I think this is why I'm having a hard time putting my thoughts together. While I'm deeply concerned about what happened in Charlottesville, it's nothing new for my fellow Jews. Many are acting like this is the first time hatred has happened and some are forgetting that my people were directly targeted. But it's not new. We've dealt with antisemitism time and time, again. I've dealt with antisemitism first-hand several times. One might say I'm WOKE but, in truth, being aware of my surroundings is nothing new for me.

While I'm not afraid we'll experience another Shoah, I am afraid they'll do something stupid that will hurt more people - which is unacceptable.

So, while I grieve over the loss of my grandfather, I will also try to figure out how to fight the Nazis.

RIP, Zeidy. You may be gone, but you'll never be forgotten.

What We Don't Let Others See

I don't look sick. I'm teaching a class...while trying not to puke.

As someone with a chronic illness, I know most of my limitations. If I do too much in the morning, I'm not doing anything after 2pm. If I do too much in the evening, I will feel like I had the best work out of my life, but in a painful way, the next morning.

Yet, I'm active. As active as I can be. I get tired easily, though.

Case-in-point: I had a rough day yesterday. The news about the death of a friend hit me really hard. I didn't want to parent - I wanted to be left alone to process my feelings. However, one kid needed to go to Occupational Therapy and I had to drag the other along with him. It was exhausting. I had to rest when I got home before meeting some family for dinner.

That doesn't sound like stuff that should be exhausting but it is.

A post on The Mighty got me thinking. There's so much stuff we share within our community of similar people that we don't share online for various fears. Those fears are anything from judgement that we look tired to judgement that we're lying about how much pain we're in because we're smiling in a picture.

I mean, c'mon people. Haven't you ever faked it until you made it? I do it all the time. Every day.

But I don't share everything online. My friends know I'm sick but I only post it online when I have a point to make. My husband - well, he sees me every day. He deals with the good and the bad. Yet, it kills me when he says things like "you've been feeling really good lately!" But, no. I haven't. I'm just sucking it up, trying to get stuff done. I put on my fake smile, hop in the pool or hammock with the kids, hoping the pain, nausea, and annoyance of it all will pass. I suck it up for him and for them.

I don't like others to see me this way. So I suck it up.

But I don't want to hide away. It gives way to unrealistic expectations from others. I don't like that. But sometimes it's easier to put on a brave face.