Dear Bubbe (Five Years Later)

Dear Bubbe,

I still can’t believe it has been five years. Mourning has gotten a bit easier as I have stayed busy in medical school, but I doubt it will ever dissipate entirely. You really have no idea how much you have shaped me, and how much you mean to me. I wish I were mature enough before you died to tell you and show you.

Writing these letters to you every yahrzeit has brought about a variety of feelings. Of course, I’m saddened that you aren’t able to be with me as I progress through my education and grow into adulthood. You were my rock, my dear friend, and my safe space. Guilt too … in that I should have written to you more often; I will carry that weight perhaps for a lifetime. But, I also feel reconnected to you as I remember so many fond memories: feeding the geese at Druid Ridge, visiting Zayde at the cemetery, and family reunions at the Suburban House (before they had the fire) or at Carol’s house for various chagim. Somehow, I can’t help but sense your presence when I’m writing. I feel as if I am having a conversation with you right now, and if I looked up from my computer, I would see you sitting on your beloved dark fuchsia chair with the heating pad doing a crossword in the guest bedroom of your apartment. I’m not sure how to describe it ... it’s like a mixture between hopeful innocence, fond nostalgia, and woeful regret … a sunken feeling in the chest, a heavy heart, all with tears of pride and love.

I still have that photo of you on my desk in my bedroom. Every time I see it, I am reminded of the time I was looking at that picture of you from your twenties in your apartment, and you turned to me and said, “Yeah, your Bubbe was hot stuff back in the day!” I still get a chuckle from that.

Writing these letters has made me try to stay connected with family and friends, although I am still figuring it all out in the craziness of medical school and my career path occupying the vast majority of my time.

It has been a rollercoaster of a year for me. Medical school has taken quite a toll on me, to be honest. I knew it would be hard, but I never in a million years imagined the struggle I am currently experiencing in school. But, I know someday, it will be worth every test, every page in my syllabus, the sleepless nights, and the truckloads of coffee I’ve needed just to survive. Stepping foot in a clinic or hospital re-energizes me. Talking with patients, realize their ailments, and finding solutions…it’s all still so meaningful! You told me to stay in school and pursue my dreams, and I have no intentions of stopping any time soon! I am still so very passionate about geriatric medicine as you know. Recently, I have toyed with the idea of becoming a medical director of a nursing home or hospice center. Perhaps I am truly meshugene, but I have deeply enjoyed learning about end-of-life care and non-hospital medical care systems (including the “old-fashioned” house call)! As I’m learning more about the American healthcare system, I have been struck with the combined realization of an ever-growing aging population and politicians who rather see the elderly die than meaningfully fund their health or long-term care. Someone’s got to fix this problem, as we all deserve to die with dignity. I hope you would be proud of the journey I am undertaking, as many people in medical school and around the country do not see its value.

I have also been doing a lot of thought about my ties to my Jewish faith and heritage as of late. I mean, I always am, but I guess moreso than normal it has occupied my mind. The meaning of certain prayers, considerations of adopting various traditions, the tragedy of the progressive loss of Yiddish, worldwide and local expressions of anti-Semitism combating my confidence as a proud Jew…I really don’t have many people in whom I can confide to discuss these difficult things. For one, my immediate circle of friends in medical school are either not Jewish or don’t have a similar connection to Jewish faith to really appreciate such issues affecting me. I have Mom and Dad, of course, but it can be very difficult to open up to them about such affairs…mostly because they are so concerned about my general happiness that they’ll placate my tsuris instead of talk about it. Going to services alone on High Holidays this year tore at me immensely, as it reminded me very poignantly how alone I really feel. Whenever I think about a person with whom it would be ideal to talk out these worries, you come first to mind. There’s just so much about which I don’t know, so much I never appreciated until now (like standing for Mourner’s Kaddish this time of year), and I have deep, unanswered questions. You were so wise...somehow, you always knew what to say.

In other news, the proverbial “lovebug” bit me, and now I am figuring out the dating game, looking forward to the blessings of being a devoted husband and a father someday, and figuring out what I want in a lifelong partner. I know…I know…you told me to wait until after medical school to find love, but what can I say? Towards the end of your life, we started to have a conversation about finding love that I now so desperately wish we could finish. It’s hard reaching out to people, especially Mom or Dad, about love and women. But, from the few minutes we chatted, I learned so much that I am only recently appreciating. Thank you for your words of wisdom: as my Bubbe and as a strong, independent woman.

George is doing wonderfully as well! Oh Bubbe, your “buttons would pop right off your blouse” with naches for him, as you would say. His engineering project for school is really taking off—and he’s making waves in the job market…how exciting! (I’ll be honest with you though…if I had to tell you how his device worked, I would be farblunget. Your other grandson’s truly a genius, that one!)

Mom and Dad are alright too. They miss you so much.

Say hi to Zayde for me…Aunt Es too!

May G-D bless you forever in G-D’s Kingdom.

I pray G-D one day reunites our souls.

I miss you and love you so very much, always and forever.

With all my love,
Herbert