- It was a typically cold December weekend. My mom had passed
away in January of 1986. My dad aged 94 (plus or minus 5 years)
finally was able to receive the love I had for him. It was about
11 months since my mom's death and it was as though he began
the journey to death the day of her funeral.
- Dad was sleeping at our home on long weekends in Briarcliff
Manor fairly often now. Somehow he was capable of letting go
of Margaret's being Catholic and not Jewish. He had developed
a fondness for her and she couldn't do enough for him. They had
so many laughs while playing poker with one another for hours.
I would never have believed this scene if I was not in the kitchen
looking on. Kibitzing with them, playing with them and having
tea and something with them. It was really great, particularly
since Mom and Dad refused to be in our home for the seventeen
years since I moved to Briarcliff with Margaret, her two kids
and my two kids.
- Mom and Dad missed out on being with their grandchildren,
and so so much of our family for so so many years.
- Now it was different. My father had said the word to me,
his son. That "' I was the shinning light of his life, that
I meant everything to him and that he was so proud that I was
him son...." He said those words when he was 92 years; when
Mom was ailing; dying of her cancer. This was his 94th birthday
(plus or minus 5 years).
- The weekend was as intimate as it could be, and so much love
was present that weekend. I drove him home to his Coop City apartment,
with Margaret seated in the back of the car and my Dad seated
beside me as always in the front. I opened the door for him as
always. I helped him out of the car and walked with him toward
his building, where I intended to take the elevator up to the
seventh floor and deliver him to his apartment 7A.
- That was until as we walked toward the apartment building
he simply slid down collapsing onto the walkway. I cuddled his
head so he did not hit his head or fall. He gently fell to the
cement walkway. I quickly put my coat under his head. He lay
there, unconscious, with his eyes opened. I was so so scared.
I shut his eyes, and ran to the car and screamed in terror that
my father just died.
- Margaret ran with me to where he laid so still. I ran to
the building to get an ambulance. The neighbors, being scared
of a man so panicked begging them to open the door to call the
police and an ambulance, refused to answer the door, or even
answer my dreadfully panicked request. Finally Dad's friend on
the seventh floor agreed with honor to make the necessary calls..
- I ran quickly back to the elevator so as to get back to Margaret
and my father's dead body. I pushed the lobby button and slowly
the elevator carried Jake's son to his father.
- The elevator door opened, and there standing in front of
me was Margaret and my Dad. "Here is your coat. Put it on.
What's the matter. Where did you go?" he said.
- We all went up to apartment 7A. The police came; the ambulance
came. He was taken to Jacoby Hospital. He survived that night.
He did, but on Christmas day , 1986 he died in that hospital,
just a few days after that unbelievably scary night..