I will not allow Renana’s searing gaze to show me up as an overworked and underdeveloped frum mother,
I t’s true that it makes no sense for Avigdor to come to the weddings — the atmosphere is not for him and it’s my family not his. But at a levayah there’s no food no mixed seating and not much conversation. Avigdor agrees to accompany me.
I tell him to take his nice raincoat and I wear my good sheitel even though it’s raining on and off. It’s probably even worse in Haifa.
The rav is already speaking when we arrive. I love the pulpit rabbi’s Hebrew — it’s rich and poetic and sizzles off his tongue. I don’t know how well he knew Dod Avram but the platitudes sound nice anyway.
Nediv lev… Ichpati… Ish haruach…
My cousin Tova looks up and gives me a gracious nod. She’s supporting her mother’s arm. A scarf is loosely draped over Doda Perel’s hair. She looks so frail as she grips the wad of pink tissues and heaves to the rabbi’s words.
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