This past Thursday was my father’s second yahrzeit, the anniversary of his passing, according to the Hebrew calendar. It is traditional to light a memorial candle that will burn for 24 hours, and to find a community with which to recite the Mourner’s Kaddish, a special prayer praising the Divine. I am privileged to have been able to do both.

Those who had the good fortune to know my father, z”l, will agree that he was a person who lived with great joy, with enormous curiosity, and with an unquenchable desire to leave the world a better place than he found it. His life was not without its troubles, but he generally found ways to make the best of it. Even towards the end of his days, 90 years old and bedridden, he knew how to love and be loved. But that’s not how I remember him best – I remember his love of music, of literature, of good food, of his children and grandchildren, of travel and of space science. He was a member of the Voyager team in the 1970s, and enjoyed working on data from that mission and other space probes well into his 80s. He was truly blessed to love his work.

Born in 1931, in Duluth, MN, a spoiled only boy with four older sisters, he watched his brothers-in-law fight in the Second World War, and drew his own conclusions. He followed his sisters and their spouses to Israel in 1949, and made his home there for most of the rest of his life. He was a force for democracy and human rights in Israel and around the world, as an active member of Amnesty International and a donor to many human rights charities. He was bitterly disappointed in the political developments in Israel in the last few years, not surprisingly. 

His life with my mother was tumultuous, but they stuck together for almost 50 years, raising three children and getting to see six grandchildren. When she died at the age of 69, he remained alone for a year, then hooked up with an old friend, who became his partner for another 18 years. I am grateful that he found love again.

When I think of my dad, I see a smile, twinkling blue eyes, a brilliant mind and a generous spirit. His desire to help repair the broken world is a precious gift he has passed down to all of us. His favourite quote was from Pirkei Avot: 

He [Rabbi Tarfon] used to say: It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it.

His memory will be a blessing, always.