Shalom

You told me that if you were granted  a little more time you would let the women in your life know how much their love and tenderness and kindness have meant to you. You said that if you had another chance you let the tears of gratitude and vulnerability and even fear flow in their presence. You promised that if you could take a few more breaths you would even dare speak these three little words that had always scared you so much: I love you.

But you did all that W.  and much more:  you taught  me that dignity does not have to fall victim of aging or illness.  You showed me that even with death a close step behind you can still dream and enjoy a glass of Remy  Martin and the best dark chocolates you could hunt down.  You saved some of those precious breaths to make me laugh with stories of your mother and to teach me Yiddish. Because who better to keep the language alive than your Greek therapist.

You did get your second chance W. and had the courage to use it right. So rest in peace, Shalom.