Bruchy was my father-in-law's best customer for blessings.
Before a test, she'd ask him to bless her, before a trip
she'd ask him to bless her and no sooner were all her sisters
and brothers married than Bruchy started asking Zeidy to
bless her to quickly find her destined one.
So when Bruchy's wedding day arrived, and she hurried to
Zeidy's room, certain that he would be overflowing with
blessings for her future, she was surprised to find him fast
asleep in his wheelchair.
It was especially strange because my father-in-law never
napped in the mornings.
"Zeidy," she called softly. There were so many things that
she still had to take care of. How could she wait till he got
up...
"Zeidy," she called again.
It seemed to Bruchy that Zeidy's eyelids fluttered, that he
was really awake. But as long as he wanted her to think that
he was sleeping, there was nothing she could do about it.
She'd come to get her grandfather's blessings on the most
important day of her life and how could she go back home
without them?
She hung around a while longer, looked nervously at her
wristwatch, had a good cry and went back home
brokenhearted.
Though I did my best to calm her down, I could see that
Bruchy was devastated. All her life she'd depended on her
grandfather to bless her for every little thing, and now, on
her wedding day, when she needed his blessings the most, he
was suddenly unavailable.
I was afraid to tell Bruchy that maybe Zeidy had deliberately
feigned sleep and davka didn't want to bless her in
the morning because he had his heart set on blessing her
under the chupa. But I dared not raise her hopes that
he would be at her wedding because my husband was admantly
opposed to his going.
Every time the topic came up, he had been emphatic.
"There'll be too much noise, too much excitement and too many
people running over to give him `Mazel tov'. He won't be able
to handle it."
My husband was immovable; his decision was final.
But seeing how much my father-in-law wanted to go and not
having the heart to tell him that his son had said `NO,' I
kept pushing him off and telling him that we still didn't
know, that we'd have to ask the doctor, that we'd have to
wait and see how he felt on the day of the wedding, that
maybe if he rested, really slept a good few hours on that
day, we would reconsider...
Because by then, an elevator had already been installed in
the Old Age Home and getting Zeidy to the wedding hall a few
blocks away wouldn't have presented a problem. Asher, Zeidy's
steady helper, could take him down in his wheelchair and push
him in the gutter (the cracked sidewalks would be bumpier
than the road) to the wedding hall, where again, there were
elevators.
As soon as Bruchy told me that she hadn't been able to rouse
Zeidy from his sleep, I immediately understood that in his
determination to go to the wedding, he was forcing himself to
sleep; or at least behaving in such a way that we should
think that he had slept, so that he could afterwards maintain
that he had complied with my conditions for his going.
As soon as I was able, I hurried over to the Home, put his
bekishe and shtreimel and freshly laundered
shirt on a chair, together with the shoes, and instructed
Asher that if and when we let him know that it was all right
for him to take Zeidy to the wedding, he should very calmly
wash him, dress him in the things I had prepared for him to
wear and bring him over to the hall.
All this time, I kept expecting my father-in-law to wake up.
But he was really sound asleep. In a way, I was happy not to
have to face him, because my husband still felt that his
father shouldn't go.
With the arrival of the photographers, overseas guests,
telegram deliveries and the groom's family filing in to
accompany the bride to the wedding hall, things became so
hectic that I didn't find the opportunity to speak to my
husband about his father going to the wedding, if only
because he wanted to so badly. And once my husband left the
house to accompany the chosson to the hall, the
opportunity to do so was gone.
Everyone was dressed, taxis were lined up at the curb. The
street was full of children waiting to throw rice on the
bride when she came down. Neighbors stood on the landings to
bless Bruchy when she passed, and accompany her outside.
Everyone stood around, waiting for me to give the signal to
go.
But Zeidy! What about Zeidy?
My husband had assumed that the subject was closed. But
knowing how anxious Zeidy was to be at Bruchy's wedding, I
had no peace.
How many things had Zeidy ever wanted in all the years
that we'd cared for him? Nothing was ever important enough
for him to make a fuss over. Whatever we decided for him was
always good enough. And now, after all the years of silently
complying with all our decisions, he had finally wanted
something. How could we refuse him? How could we disappoint
him?
But my husband had already left. I dared not do anything
against his wishes.
I went to the phone. It was like a miracle. Dr. Weiss, whose
line is always busy, answered the phone himself. I explained
that we were on the way to our youngest daughter's wedding,
that though my father-in-law had his heart set on going, my
husband didn't think he should go. Dr. Weiss had treated
Zeidy all the years. I asked him, begged him, really, to tell
me what to do.
Dr. Weiss was quiet for several minutes and then said,
"Speaking as a doctor, I would say that your husband is
right, but speaking as a human being who knows your father-in-
law very well, I say, `Take him along to the wedding. He'll
recover much faster from any damage that the excitement of
the night might cause him than he would from the
disappointment of not having gone. But don't keep him there
too long. You'll see yourself when he's had enough. And
please convey my best wishes and Mazel Tov to your husband.
Tell him that you acted on doctor's orders."
When I called the Home, the line was busy.
The taxis were all honking. Everyone was standing around
wondering why we weren't going down.
I threw down the phone; I'd call again from the hall. But
when we got to the hall, the office with the phone inside was
still locked.
Until that moment, I hadn't realized how unnerved I was. But
that was the last straw. I'd finally gotten permission for
Zeidy to attend the wedding and had no way of letting Asher
know to bring him. I felt helpless, hopeless. How could I let
Zeidy down?
My friend Hilda was the only guest around. Though she knows
that in religious circles it's customary for wedding guests
to show up an hour later than the time indicated on the
invitation, being a Yekke, she comes on time, regardless.
"As long as I'm here, let me help with something," she
offered. "My car is downstairs."
"Oh, Hilda!" I creid, reaching up to kiss her. "You're an
answer to my prayers. If you could drive over to the
Vizhnitzer Home, my father-in-law is in Room 212. Please tell
his helper Asher that I said it's all right to dress him and
bring him to the wedding."
The guests were already arriving, the musicians were going
strong, there was much oohing and aahing over the beautiful
bride, hugging and kissing and general joy.
The men were already summoning the bride to the chupa
but Zeidy was still not there.
"What's taking so long? The chosson is waiting!" came
the impatient messages from the men's hall, but I kept
putting them off with `another few minutes,' still hoping
that Zeidy would show up before Bruchy walked down the
aisle... and also praying that nothing had happened to him.
After all, he was an old man. Maybe the excitement of going
to the wedding had been too much for him. You heard of such
things... Maybe I should have listened to my husband. He
understood his father better than any of us.
I asked Hilda how my father-in-law had looked to her when she
was there. She said that he'd looked fine.
How much longer could we keep the chosson waiting
under the chupa without it becoming embarrassing? With
a heavy heart, I told Bruchy to stand up. As much as Zeidy's
blessings meant to her, she'd have to go to the chupa
without them.
The chosson's mother and I positioned ourselves on
either side of the kalla, took her by the arm with one
hand and with the other, held a lit candle- torch high.
"In a mazeldig shu'o," I whispered to Bruchy and we
headed for the rooftop where everyone already waited for the
ceremony to begin.
Suddenly there was shouting in the hall and Asher, his face a
bright red, mopping the sweat from his forehead and panting
loudly, came crushing inside, pushing the wheelchair with
Zeidy inside.
Bruchy gasped in disbelief, pulled herself free from our hold
and hanging on to all her loops and skirts, crying and
gasping and laughing all at once, she ran towards the
wheelchair. When she reached Ziedy, she got down on her knees
and put her face on his lap. She knew how hard it was for my
father-in-law to lift his hands when he blessed her. With
both of them sobbing, Zeidy laid both his hands on Bruchy's
head and poured out all his blessings while everyone all
around them sobbed and laughed along.
After things calmed down, Asher told us how all had been fine
until they arrived at the wedding hall. There, he had a
choice of using the guest elevator, located a few steps up in
the lobby, or the freight elevator located on the ground.
To save Zeidy the bumps of going up the steps, Asher pushed
the wheelchair into the freight elevator and pressed the
button for the wedding hall. But when they reached the second
floor, instead of stopping to discharge them, the elevator
kept going up and down, up and down. After half an hour of
going crazy trying to figure out how the elevator worked,
Asher finally got it to stop.
"All Zeidy kept crying all the while was that he had to bless
Bruchy before she went to the chupa," Asher ended, "so
I guess that we made it in time."
The whole evening Zeidy was surrounded with relatives and
friends, family from the States, ladies from the Home and all
of his grandchildren who lived in Israel. He laughed and
cried and kept lifting his eyes up to heaven with his hands
spread out in gratitude. How accomplished he felt. He was so
happy; he'd gone to Bruchy's wedding and given her his
blessings.
When Zeidy was ready to return to the Home, Bruchy reminded
him, "But Zeidy, you always promised to dance with me at my
wedding; I won't let you go without a mitzva
tenzel!"
From somewhere in the crowd, a gartel appeared. Bruchy
gave one end to Zeidy in his wheelchair and kept the other
end for herself. Holding on tightly, she took mincing steps,
back and forth, side to side, in a mitzva tenzel with
Zeidy.
Though everyone stood around them crying, I was sure that the
ancestors who had come down from heaven to join in our
simcha were clapping and singing and joining the
dance; full of joy, full of gratitude, full of prayers for
Hashem's continued blessings.
The music rose and reverberated, "Am Yisroel, Am Yisroel,
Am Yisroel chai. Od ovinu, od ovinu, od ovinu chai."
I realized with the joy of discovery that the nation of
Israel lives on only because we keep our fathers alive: with
love, respect, with the knowledge that we have so much to
learn from them, with the awareness that they are our
connection to a past that stretches back to Sinai and a
future that will usher in the end of all time.
