Dad's Legacy

It's been awhile since I wrote on the blog. But the spirit of love, kindness, goodness to one another I feel (hopefully the vibe of this blog) called me to write this story. Partially to share, and partially to document this experience so I can preserve it too. 

My Father passed away recently, last week, unexpectedly. My heart broke, hard. It's still broken. My Dad and I were so similar in SO many ways. We were family, but also friends. We enjoyed each other's company. I'd be driving on the way to his house to visit, and find myself on the phone with him chatting the entire ride there. Just to hang out and talk more.

So when my Dad passed, my heart had a lot to say. I knew I wanted to TRY to put words to the depth of love and admiration I felt... and try to share these feelings at his funeral. The job felt impossible. No words could ever do it justice. But I think I came close. 

Speaking at his funeral was empowering for me. For one, when I was a kid, I was put in 3rd grade reading & writing class in middle school. Always remembered this. I felt dumb compared to my peers and just assumed I'd grow up to avoid reading/writing as well. And for a long time, I felt this way. But here I am, writing and speaking. I attribute this to my amazing, encouraging and supportive parents. In addition, I felt empowered because not only did I speak at my father's funeral, but I was effective. I received incredibly kind and generous feedback about my speech. It made people cry, warmed their hearts, stirred up their own feelings of grief, and gave them more details of the man my Dad was. Wow. I did that? Still not sure if it's me or the man my Dad was being so brilliant that even the weakest words would hit hard.  

Regardless, one particular friend really struck me hard in the most beautiful way. And how she impacted me and connected me back to my Dad. I never want to forget this story, so I share it with you.

Let's jump to the end.... it feels so important that I just want to say it now: Accessibility Matters! It matters so much! It says- I see you and you matter!! And that was Dad.... the essence of him and what he taught in every aspect of his life: how you make people feel matters. People matter.

I'm an ASL interpreter. I have Deaf friends. So when it came to my Dad's funeral, I knew I was going to have interpreters. I had no idea who was going to show up. The funeral fell on a Wednesday. People work, have responsibilities, and live far away. I didn't care if no one showed up, Hearing or Deaf. I planned to have interpreters.

So I asked two dear friends to bear the burden of interpreting one of the most difficult moments in someone's life. My girlfriends, Paula and Natalie didn't hesitate for a second. (Thank you ladies from the depth of my soul).

The service was a combination of traditions, Hebrew prayers, English prayers, a speech by the Rabbi, and a speech by me. Our goal, to honor my Dad: his life and his legacy. So both myself and the Rabbi shared stories and moments we remembered in hopes to help those present at his funeral know and see the great man that was my father.

After the service, I noticed my dear friend Bessie had shown up. Bessie is Deaf and relied on the interpreters for accessibility. She came over to me after the service to give her condolences and, of course, a warm hug. She shared that listening to the speeches was eye opening. She really was struck by the story that my father had plans to be a dentist, and yet he decided to change his mind and try out this new thing (in the 1970s) called computers. How wild to hear that someone would change their mind like that. 

That was one of the coolest parts of my Dad... but that wasn't the end of this story. That was just one of the stories of change that inspired others in my family to do so too. So I had to tell Bessie more: More about my sister ...

My sister studied 6 years (undergrad and graduate school) for a career she thought she'd love. But after 5 years working in the field, regardless of the financial stability, ability to grow, and job security it provided, she realized she hated it. So she'd jump ship and go back to school for something else, totally different. And then even now, at the age of 46, she's going back to school again! 

Dad demonstrated this was possible by doing it himself. It gave us kids permission to do so too. Heck, I changed my college major 5 times... wait, maybe 7... it was a lot. I loved I could share those stories with Bessie.

And that was that. We hugged, said goodbye, and planned to connect later to catch up.

But that wasn't that. Later that evening Bessie posted a social media video talking about this very experience...

Bessie shared that she was MOVED by the fact that here were grown adults, in lucrative fields, deciding to change their minds, with no certainty of success, and do something dramatically different. Dentist to Computer Programmer, Political Science Major to Librarian, and even my Mother-in-Law, who I mentioned went back to school at 50 years old to take on a leadership role in Medical Management at a large hospital. 

I VIVIDLY remember her using the sign "Mind-in-a-box" and how that box was opened after hearing these stories... as if it was permission for her to TRY ANYTHING. This was really striking for her. Bessie shared she has lived with fear and deep anxiety she must pick her path and STAY THE COURSE, FOREVER. This is what she was taught and what she thought everyone else was doing too. Hearing the stories of my family was like her permission card to throw that way of thinking out the door. 

All because she listened to some speeches at a funeral. 

If the interpreters hadn't been there, this impact would have passed her by. Can you imagine a moment where you learned a life changing skill being taken away because of lack of accessibility? 

You might even think, well Marcy, you're an interpreter, you have Deaf friends, no surprise one of those friends came. 

And that does have merit. But there were 50+ other people at my Father's funeral I did not know. What if one of those people was in need of accessibility? I didn't know every single person in my Dad's life, work life, friend life... and those friends of friends could have possibility had a need for accessibility. We tried our best to think of all needs, and be ready for anyone.

If not for that accessibility, Bessie's experience would not have unfolded this way. 

And.... well it didn't end there.... Bessie's video was so meaningful to me that I shared it back with my sister (who was one of the people who affected her in the first place). In showing Cheryl the impact she had, it brought full circle my Dad's essence and reminded us that his legacy has ripples in ways we may or may not ever see.

Dad influenced Cheryl, who influenced Bessie, who shared that with me, to share back with Cheryl, that reminded us both that Dad taught us this invaluable lesson of love. And hearing how it mattered to Bessie, made US feel special. A massive loop of gratitude within all of us. Something me and Cheryl both needed desperately in mourning.

So this ACCESSIBILITY MATTERS. It matters because we don't live in cardboard box alone. Life is shared experiences. And the BEST experiences are ones that make you feel special. They ignite all the positive emotions: joy, excitement, wonder, possibility, elation, adventure, curiosity. Even if you aren't an extrovert or social butterfly, you can NOT go through life without others. And the BIGGEST lesson my Dad ever taught me was- how you make people feel matters most. And for selfish feelings of goodness or altruistic feelings of care.... who cares which helps get you started, because the end result will be the reward for yourself and others.

Not sure how to make accessibility happen: ask! Ask here, on the blog, in the spirit of love and care. We can all help each other.... and continue to honor an EXCEEDINGLY great man.

I love and miss you so deeply, Dad. I hope to always make you proud.

Much love.... and kindness -Marcy

_______________________

**Below is a link to the recording of the service, as well as a transcript of what I read. Accessibility for those who need it :)

Service Speech

"Thank you all for coming today. I have said it a hundred times in the past few days now, but your kindness is such a reflection of my Dad, and that really helps to put words to something I have been struggling to start writing about here. I even thought…. I should be Dad-like and I asked ChatGPT to help. So I did… That was fun and it helped get me started. I think Dad would be tickled I used technology to write this, as I’m NOT the tech child…. That’s way more my brother.

Writing about my Dad is really hard. How do you write about someone you’ve had a lifetime of experiences, moments, memories, feelings? And… How do I capture the true honor it has been to be his daughter?

I heard once:  

why ruin something by describing it with words... when I can experience it fully myself. Your words just get in the way. I rather my mind float freely as I soak in that memory… rather than have the writer step in between me and it…”

I hate that I have to be the writer here. No words are going to capture the brilliance that was my Dad. But I’m going to try, so bear with me.

Dad was just the best person to be around. What I have heard most from everyone lately is “I never saw your Dad mad. He was always so happy”. And that was Dad… He just radiated joy. He was easy to be around.

My mom and dad both always emphasized: how you make people feel mattered most. Not your intent or what you’re actually doing, but how you made them feel. Dad was such a master of making sure the people around him felt important, seen, and appreciated.

When my husband, at the time my new boyfriend, came to meet my family for the 1st time I tried to prepare this Midwesterner for the chaos of our NY Jewish Family dynamics. Everyone will talk louder and faster than the last person, and if he want to chime in, he’d need to interrupt: louder and faster than the last person. And I wasn’t wrong in preparing him. This is exactly how the 1st meeting (and every subsequential family event) went.. we were loud, chaotic, and quite silly. But there was Dad, meeting Jeff for the 1st time, sitting there smiling silently, just listening and soaking it in (or maybe trying to avoid being asked to jump in). Either way… An unspoken gesture of warmth. Jeff didn’t have to be IN the chaos. It was Dad’s way of welcoming him to family. Being like- come over here… join my team… its not as noisy.

I think my Dad and Jeff quickly found a love for one other in that moment…. And the countless more they shared in the “quieter corner” together.

So obviously Dad was a great listener and I have always loved to talk. A great combination for us… But not balanced. I knew if we could get Dad going, the stories we’d hear would be fascinating. So I got better at the listening thing…. and Dad better at the talking thing. I became known to pull out “table talk conversation cards” or as a random meaningful question out of the blue. I wanted to know my Dad. Not just as the quiet guy at dinner but who he was inside.

So we’d play this game a lot over the years. I gave him books to fill out about his life… And we even made a night I lovingly called: Dad Dinner. Where ONLY Dad was allowed to talk (hard for this loud Jewish family remember). 2+ hours later I felt I knew so much more the man who was my Dad! I am forever grateful for that night. And they weren’t always serious question, as I love a silly question too. After finding out Dad’s celebrity he’d most want to meet (dead or alive) was Tiger Woods, I did some crazy searching to figure out if I could somehow make that happen… I couldn’t but not for lack of trying.

Most recently in the hospital I asked him once to describe his best characteristics, he used the words: easy going, compassionate, kind, loving, hardworking. 

He was spot on. I think everyone here would agree. And I'd added a bunch more: silly, full of life, giving, fun, honest, trustworthy and most certainly encouraging…

I remember being terrified to make the decision to move to Gallaudet, a Deaf University, and completely immerse myself in a language and culture I didn't know fully. Dad was quick to not only support it, but push me to do it. And while he didn't understand why I found language and people so fascinating, he loved it got me so excited. Just like computers did for him. He loved seeing people in their element.

Another question I was curious to know, was if there weren’t computers, what did he think he’d be doing.

That question was left blank.

My Dad had planned to be a dentist... Him and my mom moved to Connecticut in the early 70s, and my Dad was enrolled in pre-med school. Laying the foundation for Dental School. My aunt and uncle would visit them in their small 2 bedroom condo. My Uncle Dave tells me, it was one small place. Obviously they used one of the bedrooms for their bed, but the other room… not storage, or an office, or guest room, nope… it was Dad's computer room. He had taken apart computers and was tinkering with them, leaving pieces laying all over the place. The seed was planted, he LOVED computers. And so my Dad took a huge leap of faith to drop the safe and stable Dental plan, and he went all in on computers, which in the early 70s was bold. Computers were not pervasive and very few people even owned a home computer. Let alone one they’d carry in their pocket. But when Computer Programming came into his life, he knew it was his joy and so it wasn’t a big deal… he loved it and so he just changed. It sounds so easy to say: just change. But change is complicated for so many reasons. My Dad just embodied it, lived it. It gave us kids permission to do it too. I changed my majors 7 times college, and even now get excited to think about what I could do next. He made us feel like we truly could do ANYthing.

When I asked Dad if he had any regrets or would change anything about his life- He paused, thought on it, as though he was scanning the years to make sure he wasn’t missing anything, maybe even like a computer… going file by file, making sure there wasn’t any missing data….

But he came back with a strong and confident: NO. Dad loved his life: his kids, his fiancé, his job, his friends, his colleagues and ofc his wife (our mom). He lived to show that love. That is what mattered to him. 

He loved people as they were. He allowed people to be themselves. For better or worse. When our Mom passed away unexpectedly 7 years ago, out living her great aunt, Dad, with his broken heart, stepped in to take care of Ruthie. Our great aunt Ruthie was NOT easy. She was once a caring and loving soul, focused on giving back to the community, but when she got dementia, she became a completely different person. She was difficult and often hard to handle. It somehow didn’t phase Dad. He’d show up with unconditional love, even with his broken heart after losing mom. I’d ask him how & why he was so patient. He told me repeatedly: “Scared people, act out. Fear does that.” That stuck. It applied to Ruthie… and countless others. And haven’t we all acted out in fear. He knew it, and accepted those flaws in everyone. He thought people were genuinely good. And so he treated them that way.

I’m deeply sad I wont get to continue to ask dad questions. It breaks my heart in so many ways. I’ve said it again and again: I don’t want to have to existing in a time period where Dad doesn’t exist too. I miss him… my son misses him.

I asked Dad about a year ago: what he’d yet to do, but looks forward to achieving: Of course before he answered, I speculated…. Retirement? Travel?, more golf? Challah making business? more tinkering…

What he said, helps to bring me comfort now. What was left un-done was to walk hand in hand with his grandson. And that was NOT left undone. We have hundreds of photos and memories of doing this.

Dad really lived. So I truly feel the greatest gift Dad gave me, was being his daughter. And getting to witness what it meant to live a FULL and MEANINGFUL life.

I can only hope to be as successful and share that legacy with our family. Love you Dad. And I miss you.

Thank you all SO much again for coming. Please please, never stop sharing your Dad stories with us. Big/small stories. It brings us great joy and second best to getting to ask Dad questions."