They were two sides of the same coin. For years, I held my mom's self-imposed amnesia against her not realizing that my uncle's dedication to memory likely hastened his death
This piece is both poignant & thought provoking. It makes me think about the roles people play in families. Perhaps your role, as a writer, will help synthesize the forgetting & the remembering in a healthy way.
Even from this short excerpt, I feel like I know your uncle well. And I relate to him. You’ve brought him to life on the page.
I just came across this beautifully written story about your uncle. I had no idea he passed away. I was friends with Andrew many years ago when I was living in Toronto. I live in Ottawa now. I had not been in touch with him for years. I have very fond memories of him and a lot of stories. He was truly a baal chesed. (One who does acts of kindness) I was new to Toronto in 1988. I met him at shul at the daily minyan. We quickly became friends. I was living in a basement apartment and desperately wanted to get out of there. I wanted an apartment. Andrew to the rescue, he gave me his on the first floor of 3636 Bathurst Street across the hall from his cousin Sheryl T. When I needed money to buy a business, he lent me money. He helped me in so many ways. One time, I saw an ad in a newspaper, "SJF looking for SJM". I responded to it and we corresponded for a few weeks. This was before the days of email and social media. We corresponded by snail mail. She wanted to meet. I was very nervous about it. She could have been a serial killer. I told Andrew about her and asked him for his advice. He told me where to meet her and at what day and time. It was at a kosher restaurant on Bathurst Street. Like a big brother, he showed up to make sure I was okay. He came over to the table to say hi to both of us (the girl and me). It turned out, the three of us had something in common, our parents were Holocaust survivors. After some chitchat Andrew left. Little did I know, on his way out of the restaurant, Andrew paid the bill for the meal for the girl and me. I only found out when I asked the server for the bill. He was a good soul. May he rest in peace.
This piece is both poignant & thought provoking. It makes me think about the roles people play in families. Perhaps your role, as a writer, will help synthesize the forgetting & the remembering in a healthy way.
Even from this short excerpt, I feel like I know your uncle well. And I relate to him. You’ve brought him to life on the page.
🙏🏻❤️🙏🏻
Bless you, that means the world to me.
Thank you for writing your story about Your uncle. It was very well written and full of compassion.
Thank you, Sheryl! It's so good to see your name. All my love.
What a beautiful piece! A fitting book-end to the essay you published when he was missing :)
Thank you! I was waiting for you to wake up on the West coast and read it :)
I just came across this beautifully written story about your uncle. I had no idea he passed away. I was friends with Andrew many years ago when I was living in Toronto. I live in Ottawa now. I had not been in touch with him for years. I have very fond memories of him and a lot of stories. He was truly a baal chesed. (One who does acts of kindness) I was new to Toronto in 1988. I met him at shul at the daily minyan. We quickly became friends. I was living in a basement apartment and desperately wanted to get out of there. I wanted an apartment. Andrew to the rescue, he gave me his on the first floor of 3636 Bathurst Street across the hall from his cousin Sheryl T. When I needed money to buy a business, he lent me money. He helped me in so many ways. One time, I saw an ad in a newspaper, "SJF looking for SJM". I responded to it and we corresponded for a few weeks. This was before the days of email and social media. We corresponded by snail mail. She wanted to meet. I was very nervous about it. She could have been a serial killer. I told Andrew about her and asked him for his advice. He told me where to meet her and at what day and time. It was at a kosher restaurant on Bathurst Street. Like a big brother, he showed up to make sure I was okay. He came over to the table to say hi to both of us (the girl and me). It turned out, the three of us had something in common, our parents were Holocaust survivors. After some chitchat Andrew left. Little did I know, on his way out of the restaurant, Andrew paid the bill for the meal for the girl and me. I only found out when I asked the server for the bill. He was a good soul. May he rest in peace.
Hi Danny. I'm so grateful for this. Andrew as you know was a very private person so there's a lot I don't know. These memories are like gold to me.
Very powerful Leah — thank you
Thank you! And I love When The Going Gets Weird. Everyone should check it out
Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece.
And also Pisces -- explains so much
We tend to find each other. I think it’s because we’re so willing to be vulnerable in this world.
I think you are right
Thank you, Leanne!