Only three weeks have passed since my father died, after a long illness, as they sometimes say, in a hospital in Santa Monica, surrounded by family and a few close friends.
I don’t know how I feel, except to say, that it feels like I am sitting in a chair with only three legs. A great friend, father, supporter and admirer, a kind and understanding person, an ethical man, without malice, has perished. He somehow showed his best side when he faced the worst choices.
And how strange it is to drive the same streets,eat in the same places, walk on the same sidewalks that he traversed, as recently as 30 days ago.
Living in the internet age, I received no written condolence cards from either family or friends. I do thank Facebook, however, for lots of kind words from those “friends” who I haven’t met yet. And some who I have.
On his deathbed, unable to speak, with a tube in his mouth, he spelled out on paper his wish to be cremated. After the three doctors left the room, in which they announced their verdict of impending death, my father took his left index finger and communicated these words, “I CHANGE MY MIND. C-R-E-M….” He later spelled out “Hudson River” and we understood that he wanted to be left in the waters near Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, where his parents had come nearly 100 years ago.