I wrote about a very special gift for a local Jewish paper in 1996- Here’s that story!
In first person… Uncle fulfills Grandma’s promise
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In first person… Uncle fulfills Grandma’s promise
IRENE SCHLESINGER Special to the Bulletin
I met my Uncle Mossy when my beloved grandmother was in the hospital. For many years, Grandma had been battling various forms of cancer. This time she had a brain tumor and she wouldn’t be going home. Uncle Mossy was my grandfather’s brother. Family lore had it that Mossy had been the most dashing of Grandpa’s older brothers. It was said that he had loved the ladies. No one seemed to know very much about his present state as he was now almost totally deaf and didn’t talk
too much. He didn’t have to say much. He obviously loved Grandma as he came every evening to sit at Grandma’s side and hold her hand. My aunt, my mom and I were determined to be with Grandma every minute so that when the time came, she wouldn’t be alone
when she passed on. Uncle Mossy and I stayed up all night so Mom and Auntie Jane could rest. One night I was drained, but out of the blue, I remembered the many times Grandma had mentioned how she would one day dance at my wedding. It was sadly clear that if that time ever came,
Grandma wouldn’t be there. I completely fell apart in my Uncle Mossy’s arms. A year after Grandma died, I became engaged. We weren’t sure if Uncle Mossy received the wedding invitation. No one was quite certain about his whereabouts or circumstances. We figured not to expect him. The night of the wedding came. Everything was unbelievably perfect. The wedding was in San Francisco at the Mark Hopkins. It was a fancy sitdown dinner with a band. My new husband and I were on the dance floor when out of nowhere my Uncle Mossy appeared. He
handed me a menorah, gave me a kiss and turned to dance the night away with two or three of my mom’s most attractive friends. As the party wound down, Uncle Mossy was gone! We eventually found out that Uncle Mossy had taken a Greyhound bus to San Francisco from Los Angeles to come to the wedding. When he left, he got directly back onto a bus back to Los Angeles. I like to imagine Uncle Mossy sitting in the Greyhound with that shiny menorah on his lap, coming to dance at my wedding, filling the void of Grandma’s loss.