After all, what could he teach a girl who got straight A’s in school and wanted to go to an Ivy League college? And yet, today, what I remember from college seems like a blur of
intellectual trivia compared to the simple lessons of my father . . .
20 Comments Posted
I LOVED THE STORY OF MY FATHER'S TZITZIS! ONE OF MY MOST FAVORITE MEMORIES IS HIDING UNDER MY FATHER'S TALLIS AS HE DAVENED IN THE MORNING. THE WARMTH AND SECURE FEELING I HAD IN THIS SPECIAL HIDING PLACE WILL GIVE ME COMFORT FOREVER!
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I could not help but crying. May the memory of Mrs. Levenbrown's father continue to be such a blessing for all.
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I just found this article, and I'm in awe. What a beautiful tribute to your father. Truly remarkable.
Gd bless you.
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Thank you for one of the most beautiful and endearing short stories I have ever read.
My Dad is gone for 1 1/2 years and each time I touch his prayer book, which he used in the Army, I feel his energy and love of his religion surge through me.
There is nothing like the beautiful memories shared between daughter and father.
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A beautiful moving story Thank You
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Thank you so much for your kind words and thoughtful responses. It means so much to have been able to share a piece of my father with all of you.
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My own father Joseph Kluger passed away 21 years ago, on the 11 of Sivan of the English year 1985 (that year it was May 31). Tonight is his Yahrtzeit. My children remember fondly their Grandpa Joe and my middle son is named for him, Yosef Chaim (also my second grandson). We all loved Grandpa Joe. He left 2 daughters and no sons, but my husband says Kaddish for him. I'm sure that he sits next to your father in Gan Eden and that they both look down on us and "shep nachas" from their daughters and from the Mitzvot that we do and the Jewish, Torah-observant lives that we live. This is the greatest joy for our fathers' souls in heaven.
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What a beautiful, beautiful story. That one line, "...as this physical connection was broken, a new bond was formed" is one that took my breath away. My instinct is that that line gave many people a new and unexpectedly optimistic emotion with which to approach death and loss. What a gift! Thank you!
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My first grandchild had his bris last Shabbos and they named their little boy for my late father. So when I got this email, it, too, reminded me of Daddy and of his death. He did take me to shul a few times when I was little, and on those occasions I used to page through the siddur looking for instances of the Shma, which has a rolling resonance which I have always loved. And I did have to decide what to do with his tallis when he died. However, nobody told me I could keep the tsitsis. I do still have two of his older tallesim in a drawer. One of them is really old; he must have used it for years before he switched to a newer one. And he is buried in a yet newer one. I asked my brother whether he would like to swap his own newest one for Daddy's newest one, and he did that. So Daddy's newest tallis now belongs to my brother, and Daddy in his grave wears my brother's new tallis.
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-Jessica: Thank-you! Tomorrow is the 38'th Yarhartz (21'st Sivan) of my father: Shepsel ben Nochum, z''l, passing. Reading your article:
has left me in tears. I was 9 years of age when G-d called him home. It is only in the past few years that I realize just how much of a void that was never filled, that his loss was to both my mother: Tzipia Etel Bais Chava, z''l,
and I. These bitter sweet tears; those of the child and adult that still cries out for her 'daddy'.
Each tear holds a memory; and finds comfort in the knowledge of our mutual father: Avinu Malkeinu, our Father our King. 'In our hearts forever'.
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Im 12 and my comment is you wrote the best storey ive have read in chabad.org
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This was a beautiful story.
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How ironic I read this article yesterday 10/31/06 and it gave me warm feelings, as my daughter braided the tzitzis of my tallis when I could keep her in shul for a while. I put on tallis and tefillin in the morning and the braided tzitzis remind me of my daughter(now a wife and the mother of 3). I returned to print the article as I had told my wife about it, and wanted to show it to her. I decided to read the posted comments and the first one is from my sister last March regarding my late father. I didn't know she read the article, and she didn't know I had.
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Wow, i simply could not stop crying. Thank you so much for sharing this with us all.
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I was immediately moved and started to cry! I am blessed to still have my parents, but I do understand the significance of losing a parent... (GRANDPARENT). Your story moved me sooo & Thank you for sharing. I am sure that man you held so dear... is so proud of you. The apple never falls too far from the tree!
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Anything relating to a young daughter attending shul with her father brings back warm, loving memories to me. Looking up at the beautiful stained glass dome on the ceiling kept me still, as well as watching the back of the old man's swaying head, who sat in front of my dad. For some reason these memories never left me.
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Shalom.
I agree there is a tear drop when ever one reads your story. i never went to shul with my dad, but i'm now a dad and teach my children what needs to be known.
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Beautiful article, thank you. Might make it to my Yom Kippur sermon :-)
Quick note re the tzitzit: before burial the chevra kadisha (burial society) are supposed to make the tallit "passul" (not kosher) usually by removing one of the corners. They probably did not know how much it would mean to you.
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This story was wonderful. Though not Jewish, my life has been blessed through my association with two fabulous Judaic studies professors who both attended Chabad synagogues. Thank you for sharing G-d's love with the rest of us.
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I forgot to mention that Daddy dovened at home every morning of his life from the time he was twelve years old...except when he dovened at shul. As a small child I knew this was his most loving time of day, and cherished it.
I still get warm fuzzies at the sight of the extra tallesim hanging on the hooks outside the sanctuary, so anyone without one to borrow one. It's as if strands of Daddy's love were hanging there.
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