Mom, Oma, Shirley. You were one of a kind: a mother to us, your children, a loving be wife to Opa (Emil), a grandmother, Oma, to your grandchildren – and a friend to all - even people you had just met.
You had a wonderful gift of connecting with people and touching their hearts – even after a 5-minute conversation – let alone relationships that spanned years and decades…
You knew how to connect with people and how to keep the contact alive. Everyone that heard of your death – even after years of not being in touch with you – immediately felt that warm feeling, as if it were only yesterday.
Thinking of you, Oma, we feel the caress, the warmth and love, and suddenly – feel a little better.
You were a warm home to all of us – always attentive to the needs of others, and ready with a caring look, a kind word,… and a cup of coffee, of course.
And after visiting & talking with you, we’d leave a bit stronger, and a little happier.
You were a spark of light and goodness, warmth and compassion, always ready to listen & a safe haven for whomever crossed your path – or more often – whoever’s path you crossed.
And you’re gone. And the world is now a colder, harsher, and darker place.
You always chose to pay attention to others: to inquire, show interest, converse with, touch, caress. Never to yourself. Your health, your pain, your sacrifice for others. They always came first, and you, you were the symbol of “It’ll never happen to me”. And in your strength, your charm, you made us believe: “It’ll never happen to you”.
You fought Cancer for two years, but whenever we’d ask you how you were feeling, you always felt great, and everything was always fine. And instead of focusing on your battle with Cancer, you dedicated yourself to the loving care of Opa, and overcame Cancer as an afterthought, not as your main effort.
And when I spoke with you a couple months ago, you told me you had replaced your car, and only after interrogating you did it become apparent, of course, that you had been in a serious accident that totaled your old Subaru, and – how else – the gang from Me’ilyah (an neighboring Arab village) who saw the overturned car came running to rescue you, take you to the hospital, and look after the wreck – “Because it’s our friend, Shirley”.
In your world there were no strangers, Oma – only people you had not yet met & touched. Mom, you were made of the stuff of angels, not of this world, and not long in this world. You left us too early – there are so many family members and friends who need you – and so many that have not yet had the privilege of meeting you, and their lives, without your touch, are lacking.
When we called your old friends, to break the news of your death, the moment they realized we were Shirley’s kids, a smile and warmth entered their voices – because we all have a place for Shirley in our hearts: a warm and kind place, that whenever you touch it – even after years – makes you feel good.
Everyone you touched is a changed person, even if they only realized it just now.
And all that is left is to follow in your footsteps and cherish your heritage: to open our hearts a little more, to reach out to others from time to time – whether family, friends, or strangers, and yes, to always make time to sit down with them for a cup of coffee, because we all need a warm home. Today, more then ever.
And without you, we must be that warm home – for ourselves, and for others.
And we can, from time to time, think of you: remember a phone call, or a cup of coffee, or (for some) a cigarette – and to smile, and enjoy the memory, and to feel for a moment – that warmth, the contact with you – and to take some comfort in it.
So rest in peace, Mom, we are blessed having known you, and will always grieve your absence.
