Seymour Perl's talk on the Chabad telethon

My best friend Dr. Daniel Rubin passed away in February of this year. His whole life was changed and shaped when, as a 21 year old UCLA medical student, in 1969, he met Rabbi Shlomo Cunin for the first time, on the UCLA campus. Rabbi Cunin was approaching male students to put on tefillin.

Rabbi Cunin helped Dan put on tefillin for the first time. According to Dan’s wife Brenda, Dan was very excited about putting on tefillin and considered it a very emotional and spiritual experience. Rabbi Cunin saw how excited Dan was so he went to his car, and brought back a pair of tefillin which he gave to Dan.

Rabbi Cunin then offered to take Dan with him the following day to the Brandeis Bardin Institute where he was planning to talk to, sing with, and put tefillin on the men and give out Shabbos candles to the women. Dan was thrilled to join him, even though he himself had just learned how to put on tefillin.

Dan spent the day with Rabbi Cunin at Brandeis, helping the campers put on tefillin. He found it to be a very fulfilling experience, helping others connect with their Jewish heritage. This was the beginning of his journey into a Jewish orthodox way of life. He never missed a day of putting on tefillin from that day on.

Dan started going to the Westwood Chabad House to pray and learn every Shabbos while he was in medical school. Rabbi Cunin told me that Dan’s reconnection to Judaism was special and Dan consequently influenced many others to do the same.

Dan always had a Jewish text in his hand so that he could study when he had a free moment. After Dan’s passing, Rabbi Cunin suggested that I study the holy Tanya daily in Dan’s memory. This is Dan’s copy of the holy Tanya that he studied from daily and that I now use daily.

Rabbi Cunin also suggested that my wife Carole should ask a woman to start lighting Shabbos candles once a month in Dan’s memory. A friend has now undertaken this mitzvah.

Dan continued his relationship with Chabad, praying and learning with them at the Chabad near his home. He always gave commentaries on the torah based on the Rebbe’s teachings.

Dan and Brenda raised four children who are religiously committed, as are all their grandchildren. He left a wonderful legacy. It all started with a so-called ‘chance’ meeting on the UCLA campus with Rabbi Cunin, but is anything really caused by chance?

From a friend Jack

Dan was kind, gentle, witty, knowledgeable, and spoke of you (Brenda) and he retiring to Israel. He loved and cherished his family. G‑d's Gifts abounded in Daniel.

I cherish and Dan declined payment for a dreidel and pendant (both inscribed with "the Great Miracle happened here") that he brought me from Jerusalem. We discussed many things, his writings were inspired, and he spoke and wrote of Hillel's dictum, "If I am not for myself, who will be for me; and if I am for myself alone, what am I, and if not now, when."

From Shelly Stohl

Strength Behind a Smile

I promised that I would share my humble memories of Dr. Rubin. I apologize in advance to you and to him that, although I had one of the best English teachers in the business, my words are inadequate to encapsulate the full impression that he left with me:

*****

Dr. Rubin nearly always wore a smile across his face. A warm smile, at that. And his voice was lively - upbeat and full of promise. He had much to be happy for, most notably his beloved wife, his four wonderful children (yes, Moshe, even you, though I'm being a bit generous here), and the ever-growing clan of grandchildren.

But Dr. Rubin's wasn't a simple warm smile. It was a wry warm smile. There was something faintly intimidating about his persona. On my visits to the Rubin home, I welcomed Dr. Rubin's exuberance, but I was also always just a little bit scared. Dr. Rubin's smile seemed to stem from a satisfaction, a surety, a pride that comes with hard-won and hard-earned successes, that comes from knowing you've sacrificed in your life for the right things - from knowing that you've made the right choices. His smile betrayed a moral fortitude, as if to say: I've wrestled with some serious dilemmas, I've faced tall obstacles, and I didn't run, I didn't settle, I didn't compromise my values. His smile challenged you - it challenged me - to live up to that standard. It challenged you to live so that one day you could smile like him.

I'm privy, I'm sure, to but a small fraction of the life-altering choices and the trying struggles Dr. Rubin faced as a Jew, as a professional, as a father, and as a grandfather. He must have confronted those choices and those struggles with dignity and with principle - you could read it on his face. And he must have felt certain that he successfully passed on that fortitude to his family - it radiated from his smile.

From Moshe - Shloshim Dvar Torah

From the shloshim we had at the cemetery:
In Parashat Shemini there's a disagreement between Moshe Rabeinu and Aharon about whether one of the goats should be eaten or not. Commentators point out that this is really Oral Torah found in the Written Torah, because Moshe had received a commandment about a different sacrifice, and there was a disagreement between Moshe and Aharon how to implement that teaching here. I feel Abba was an "Oral Torah" Jew. Even though he learned a lot of Torah over the years, the Hebrew was still difficult for him. Instead of giving up or remaining mediocre in his learning, Abba always strived to learn more and more, using different translations and different books in order to continue growing in his learning. For example he had the whole set of Soncino Gemarot, but when ArtScroll came out with their Gemarot, he made sure to get those, because they were more conducive to his learning. I think we can all learn from Abba, how to overcome boundaries and continue growing in learning and spirituality.

2) Kashrut: Kashrut is one of the main themes in Parashat Shemini, and Abba was very careful in terms of kashrut. He was an amazing son-in-law that I can learn a lot from. One of the rare outbursts he had towards his in-laws (or out laws as he would say) that I remember vividly from my childhood was over a questionable hashgacha he found on a product in their home. Occasionally he would taste something and it would remind him of the non-kosher food he ate in his youth. Instead of reminiscing and showing that he missed those times, I remember him using those moments as a time to emphasize how happy he was as a frum Jew. There's a famous statement in the name of R. Moshe Feinstein zt"l that the early generation of Jewish immigrants were not successful in keeping their kids frum because they were always sighing and complaining how hard it was to be a Jew, while keeping all the mitzvot. Obviously it is hard at some points to be a Jew, but the question is what you focus on. At work I deal with a lot of kids of baalei tshuva, which has become an issue in some circles because their parents left their previous milieu but were not 100% incorporated in the frum world, and many times the problems show up by the kids. I never felt like the son of a baal tshuva because I think Abba was able to make the full adjustment to the frum world and help us appreciate the beauty of Yiddishkeit.

From Nechama Joshua

My memories of your father are all fond. He was always willing to make the transatlantic + transcontinental flight for family smachot--he could have sent your mother--but he was always a willing participant. I always felt comfortable with Daniel because he would always have a joke or kind word to pass on to me. I know how bad he felt when Michael died, and I remember a lovely luncheon I had with your parents and Avi-z"l and Nancy in Center 1 a couple of years ago. Your father always had a good family story to tell, remembering every detail. I was also impressed with the knowledge he had of my Zedy-z"l because via his shiur with him-he probably got to know him better than any of the other grandchildren. I also remember that when my neighbor was seriously injured in Santa Barbara, I was able to contact Daniel in the middle of the night and know I would get some good advice. (In this case it was to contact Chabad which turned out to be a G-dsend of course).

This Pesach season is so difficult to be without our closest relatives. I know that Pesach was so important for your father--to have the whole family together--to give as much kavod as possible to your grandparents and to have the family together for the seder.
I can only add: מן השמים תנחמון.

Love
Nechama Joshua

From Racheli's friends

It is a terrible loss, your dad was always a source of joy for me when I would come over or see your family somewhere. There was something about the words he used/way he spoke and smiled that always made me feel so comfortable and welcome--in a way very unique to him and that exceeded how I felt with any other friends' parent.

From Dalia:
I will forever remember your father's laugh, humor and seriousness when we were playing loudly as kids:) I remember your parents used to give us money for doing jobs around the house, and how he was a tough judge- we had to really do a good job to earn our allowance, and I appreciated how he always took us seriously.

Brenda's speech at Daniel ז"ל's shloshim

Lessons Learned

Today I finished Shloshim—the first 30 days after burying my husband, Daniel Frederick Rubin. As a result, there should be a lightening of the sorrow I feel. First, the shock, then the burial, then the steeping in shiva, then a less severe mourning period. And now tonight, as his wife, I am supposed to be free of all restrictions. I can return to the material world. So, since I am a material girl and work out many of my demons by shopping for bargains, I can return to my old coping mechanisms. I can shop 'til I drop. However, I won’t have my best friend to return to. He never liked to treasure hunt. Often I bought things I didn’t need or like because at that price, how could I turn it down? But he always supported me in my relentless bargain hunting. Usually it was stuff I bought for him or the children or the grandchildren. He always liked getting new things and he hated shopping. When I would spend money for something ridiculous and say I really don’t know why I bought it—he always encouraged me to enjoy myself. He reassured me that I never spent so much and it was less expensive than therapy. Besides, we always had lots of gifts to give to the grandchildren when we visited them. After the children left home, I filled our closets with my bargains. Daniel loved bright colors so I was always on the lookout for bright clothes for him that were not glaring to me. When I would call up to say I was on my way home, my husband would ask, “So where are you?” because he learned that my shopping adventures took me to faraway places. The reason I am talking about this is that I learned how to love by being married to a loving man.

Daniel was the youngest child in his family. His only other sibling was his brother who was 14 years older. He had older parents who indulged him. Instead of getting spoiled, Daniel retained a sense of how loveable he was. As a result, he spread his love around. He would slap friends on the back, do shtick with them, remember certain facts about them that he never let them forget, and basically make people around him happy. I was a middle child. That should say it all. However, my parents were always afraid that we children would be susceptible to thinking too much of ourselves. Or maybe it was the evil eye that would get us. So, my parents did not tell us that they loved us when we were young. Daniel said “love” all the time, so we always showered our children with love and loving words. I remember about 30 years ago how triumphant my husband was. He called me up and said, “I just called Daddy (the name we called my father) and told him I loved him, and he said “I love you” back to me! After Daniel hung up, I got a phone call from my father saying, “Daniel just called me up and said he loved me to me and I said I loved him back. But I couldn’t just say that to him and not let you hear that I love you too.” That was one of my husband’s favorite stories.

He spread the love by going to shiva houses and doing the mitzvoth of mvaker holim and menachem ovel. I was taught that you only go to people that you know. That if you are not friends, you are imposing on that person in their time of sorrow. Under my husband’s tutelage, I started following his lead. I can tell you that he was right. I learned that when acquaintances come and give you support, it is very meaningful. I learned how to give comfort like that from my husband. I grew up Modern Orthodox. Daniel was a ba’al tshuvah. He would show me the books where different things were written. We would try to follow the law not as it was customary in my home but the way the books said. I learned from my husband how to be more Orthodox and less modern that way. For example, my husband always would stick in a “dvar Torah” during the meal. I say “stick in” because I was not used to having a dvar Torah at every meal. My husband would twist the conversation around so all of a sudden it was a dvar Torah instead of normal dinner conversation. After being bamboozled so many times, we had a rule. My husband would have to preface his “very interesting” story by saying it was a “dvar Torah alert!” That way, I didn’t feel tricked into it. Eventually, I became accustomed to the divrei Torah and enjoyed them. If I had attended a shiur, I would tell the divrei Torah. My husband always got his way. He just did it his way—a steel hand in a velvet glove.

Daniel was always interested in making new friends and learning new things. He found all people interesting and loved to learn about what people did. He would ask questions, pay attention to the answers, and remember things about people ever after. He made people happy by his interest in them and added to his own interesting personality by getting so involved in their stories. When he was diagnosed, Daniel needed to wear oxygen all the time. The disease had progressed so far so fast. People wanted to bring us food. Daniel hardly ate anything. I didn’t need more food. However, I didn’t know how I would get Daniel the company on Shabbat he loved. We used to pick up guests from shul all the time. But now he couldn’t get to shul. Besides, he was wearing a tube in his nose. People wouldn’t want to come and visit a sick house. Additionally, I needed to get Daniel to the doctor all the time. How could I cook for company? My mother came every Friday night, and it would be a somber occasion each Friday night thinking about Daniel’s illness and dwelling on his prognosis. Rina Isenberg told me people wanted to help us and that I couldn’t deny all their friendly overtures. I thought how I needed Daniel to be buoyed up by company and I needed company food. My friends and acquaintances filled up our Friday nights with fine food, fine company, and diversion. We felt the air lift as the friends came. Esther Rothberg figured out that friends could share the work. Even as Daniel’s health declined, he looked forward to our Friday nights filled with friends and good times. He would sleep all day just so he could have the strength to be there for our Friday night meal.

A friend asked me why we made our bad news so public, saying, “Didn’t you want to keep it quiet? I would. Didn’t you feel like you were objects of pity?” I asked Daniel and he replied, I don’t feel like people are pitying me. I feel the love they are expressing.” The last Friday night we had I had to warn our friends, the Samsons, beforehand. Daniel was not doing well. I asked them whether they would still come, still bring the food, still sing, and not leave if Daniel had to go to sleep. When Daniel left the table just after the chicken soup, the singing continued. Daniel said he felt good as he dreamed and heard the zmirot in the background. We felt so supported by the community. Daniel didn’t live long enough for us to party with all the friends who volunteered. We couldn’t believe all the love that was being expressed. My mother would get embarrassed and say every week, “What kind of business is this. You invite people to your house and they have to do the cooking?” And I would say, “Yes,” and thank my guests for their largesse and company. It was the highlight of our week. Thank you for everyone who did it and everyone who signed up in expectation of doing it. We felt and feel the love.

Thank you for all your prayers and visits. I just want to say that I once heard a shiur at Beth Jacob about how G-d keeps on sending angels in our days. Just that the angels are people like you who do good works. By not just cooking food for us but sitting and joining in meals with us, you lifted our spirits and spread loving kindness. G-d is in control. If I were in control, Daniel would not have died. I miss him. I need him. I can never repay everyone for your loving support (you know who you are). I hope I can learn from your example how to go into the fire with a friend, stay there when everything is burning up, and work to make that blaze a purifying burning bush. Daniel was not going to die. He was determined to live. The night before he died, I thought he still had six months to live. I started crying and said “I don’t know what I will do without you.” He answered, “I don’t know what I would do without you.” He was telling me that he had no intention of dying. When things looked really bleak, Daniel did not give in. I remember when recounting how bleak everything looked and how our one hope was fading, Daniel responded, “What can we do? We just have to take the next step.” Even in that time, Daniel placed his faith in G-d—we couldn’t call the shots—we just had to take the next step.

As many of you know, Daniel became acutely sensitive to others as he became more ill. Frieda had given me a whole lot of tapes to watch with Daniel on Downtown Abbey. Daniel could not watch the show even though he loved the series when he was well. He felt acutely the putdowns and the class struggle. He could not take the jibes, the slights, the hurts inflicted by master and servants in the intrigue. It was a job for me to find something to distract him that would not hurt him. Going to the Beverly Hills Library, I would bring home nine movies and find that all the movies had something distressing in them. We rented one movie, about a group of orphans in Nepal that learned mountaineering and climbed a mountain. The orphans never reached the summit. What the movie celebrated is the attempt. These orphans benefited by the attempt. Through their struggle, they bonded together and learned to love each other. That experience strengthened them. We loved that movie. You should take it out. Daniel and I didn’t succeed in our struggle. We never got him well. In the struggle, we learned how wonderful our friends, family and community are. I am grateful for your coming tonight. I feel that you already did more than your share by coming to the funeral or the name change and Tehilim session or our house or providing food for us. My Rabbis and friends and family encouraged me to have this memorial service. And in memorial of my husband, I want to say to each one of you, I love you. Thank you for being there for us and now for me. I hope we will only join together for smachot in the future.

From Elie Klein

From cousin Elie Klein, a blog post about loss and appreciating our loved ones inspired at Daniel ז"ל's funeral.

Elie: "My post proves what a special person he really was - he inspired others even after his passing."

From Racheli's friend:
I have such clear memories of his wit and humor. He was always so
chirpy when your friends came by. But it was more than that--he was
always genuinely concerned when he asked us all how we were.

From Peggy Morrison; Sarah and Yehoshua Nagel

I found myself working in the same room with Brenda at a school in San Pedro California one year and we hit it off right away. We would walk at lunch time to get some exercise and I would ask Brenda a bunch of questions about her Kosher life and she would ask me about my life. While I have many Jewish friends , Brenda's family is the most religious one I know. I’m not sure what year this was but it was before Moshe got married,maybe 13 years ago. I was interested and admired the thoughtful life that Brenda and her family live. This led me to meeting “my Scottish cousin, Daniel”, as I called him. Over time and with many visits to the Rubin home and sukkot celebrations and dinners that I couldn’t reciprocate and hiking and visits to Seal Beach for the sandcastle contest and kite festival I came to know and enjoy Daniels humor. The way he always was a willing teacher and explained what was going on to me and his particular tone of saying ” Mrs. Rubin”, make me smile as I think of them now. The happiness and joy of every new grandchild and wedding. The fantastic trips to far corners of the world. The celebration of Rachelis' recent marriage this fall in L.A. is so fresh in my mind. Our last outing was to the National Geographic Photography Exhibit in L.A.. I know he was fatigued but he seemed to enjoy it and never complained. I always wanted to give him a hug because that’s what I do—and I knew I couldn’t - so I devised a way where I would hug Brenda and she would hug Daniel for me-or I’d give him an “air hug". I hope that wasn’t too embarrassing for him because it made me happy. The Daniel I remember was so calm and warm. He loved his family so much. He had humorous ways of looking at things that I appreciated. He welcomed me into his life and home. I know that it will be hard but Brenda will carry on and we can share warm memories of dear Daniel. My life was enhanced by knowing him. Sincerely,
Peggy Morrison, California


BS"D
Here is a snippet of some of our memories of Daniel A"H:
- Always quick to smile and tell a joke.
- He used to call me Potato man
- He hosted the most amazing Sheva brachot for us. Beautifully decorated, with a play and trivia and games
- Once I was admiring his collection of sefarim on his bookshelf and mentioned that I noticed a particularly spiritual influence in his choice of books. He replied "oh, the Gemaras are on the other shelf...of course, that's not to say they aren't spiritual either!"- I appreciated his very logical and systematic approach, even to things as mundane as clearing the Shabbat table

Wishing you arichut yamim and a Shabbat shalom,
Sarah and Yehoshua Nagel

From Shelley Feldman-Breitbart

My Dear Brenda,
What I will always remember of your dear husband was his unfailing smile and good humor. He was incredibly kind to Tzipi's husband , Dudi, when they lived here. Dudi always said that had it not been for your husband and his welcoming smile he would have walked out of YICC and not come back. I loved Daniel's sense of humor and the way he teased all of our kids at the various Shabbos and Yom Tov tables we shared. Despite the financial difficulties that the practice of medicine served up, Daniel always took it in stride and refused to compromise the way he practiced medicine. He was an example to me and made me feel less alone in my own struggle to take care of patients properly despite the financial disincentives. I felt I had a shared soul in that regard.

Daniel was selfless. He lived for others and to make things better for everyone. I loved his tuneless Kiddush which always came from the heart. The two of you raised the sweetest, finest children with such love and such good middos. I do believe that the two of you were a most perfect match. Even though our world has lost a wonderful person on an everyday basis, Olam Habah has gained a perfect soul to watch over all of us. May you all find comfort amongst the mourners of Zion.

With all my love and sympathy,
Shelley Feldman-Breitbart

From Lydia and Harry Weisman

Yes, he always had that nice zaftig laugh; yes, he always showed love and appreciation for his wife and children; yes, he always was a most respectful son-in-law; yes, he always was a most sincere bal tshuva; one could argue he had years to perfect all these roles. However, when he faced his sudden terminal disease with such honesty, courage and openness, I was simply blown away. How could he know in an instant that he should rely on his faith to guide him; how could he understand immediately that he needed to support and appreciate all his beloved wife’s efforts on his behalf and that she was his partner to the end; how could he grasp that he needed to make herculean efforts to savor every precious gift of each moment with his children and grandchildren of whom he was so proud, and showed them his pride. I can truly say Daniel became a role model for me in how to deal with adversity with courage and dignity, and always believing that Hashem is by your side. I believe it was partly because he showed this love for Hashem and the people around him that everyone gathered around him to show their support, but I believe also to be near him to learn from him. I know I feel honored to have learned from him. May his memory always be for a blessing. Lydia and Harry

From Mark Herskovitz, Frieda Korobkin, and David Felsenthal

Mark Herskovitz:
One of my early memories of your Abba is during a Shevah Brachot for your parents. The Shevah Brachot occurred at your grandparents. I believe it may have been a Shabbat Day Shevah Brachot. [You need to check with your mother on this.] There was a huge crowd. At least it seemed that way to me -- I was about 10-years-old. Toby Frieman (now Toby Klein) was also there, she was much younger than I. (Toby was maybe 5-years-old at the time.) The Shevah Brachot were outside in the back yard. There was also a table set up in the dining room inside. We kids were running around. The door to the service porch was opening and closing and I remember the smell of your grandmother's chulent - the best ever. Anyway, some flies got into the house from the outside. Toby saw them hovering above the Challah, and she said: "Danny, Danny, the flies are eating the Callah." Your Abba did not miss a beat. He said: "I sure hope not. We just got married." I thought that was the funniest thing!

I also remember how our Zeddy, Rev Shalom Herskovitz, wanted both your Abba and I to come learn Parsha with Rashi with him each Sunday morning, at his Shtibel (Kehal Chatam Sofer on Melrose Ave.) Your Abba was much more dedicated to attendance than I. (I was just about Bar Mitzvah age at the time.) Your Abba would go every Sunday (or nearly every Sunday.) I would sometimes miss for this reason or that, but I recall being disappointed on the rare occasions when I would show up, but your father was not there. When we were both there, Zeddy would have your Abba read a Pasuk and translate. Then it was my turn. I could see what a special admiration Zeddy had for your Abba, each time it was his turn to read. I could also see that the feeling was mutual. Sometimes, your Abba would stop and ask interesting questions about the narrative or point out something that may have troubled him. Zeddy would pause and he think for a few moments before carefully responding. I think Zeddy understood how important it was for your father to have a meaningful response to his questions or observations. I could feel the special Kavod your Abba showed for Zeddy, and I would notice the appreciation your Abba had for the response he would receive from Zeddy. I also recall looking forward to when your Abba was there to learn with Zeddy with me, because he served as this magical buffer - who was at a completely different and higher level than I. Your Abba's questions and observations helped me appreciate that Chumash was not a linear text, although both your Abba and I used what I think was novel for its time, a linear translation Chumash with Rashi.

Sincerely,
Mark

--
Dear Brenda, Amira, Moshe, Devora, Racheli, Revital, Yosef, Eric:
You are all very much in our thoughts and hearts, as are our memories of your dear husband/father Z”L.

Speaking for myself, the most vivid memory I have, and the one that made the most impression on me and which I will carry with me to the end of days, is seeing your father every Shabbat afternoon sitting at the dining room table with the seforim before him, learning, learning, learning. When I would come to play Scrabble, there he was already, right after lunch, as if he couldn’t wait to finish eating to crack open those books. This to me will always be especially impressive, knowing how he came late to the “feast”, and then couldn’t get enough of it.

The other memory which is indelible is of him always walking your mother to our door when it was her turn to come to my house for Scrabble on Shabbat. He never let her walk by herself, and always made sure that I was actually home and had opened the door, before leaving her. He would wave and call out a cheerful Shabbat Shalom before walking back home to his beloved Seforim.

My husband will always be grateful for the way both your parents walked over to see him when he was hospitalized over last Shavuot. I believe your Dad was already coughing at the time, so it was probably an extra effort for him to make the walk all the way to Cedars.

You don’t need me to tell you how special Daniel Rubin Z”L is and was, as a husband, a father, a doctor, a man. Our whole community is poorer as a result of his passing.
May you all find Nechama.
Fondly,
Frieda Korobkin

--
David Felsenthal:
Dear Brenda:
Please accept our heartfelt condolences.

I remember vividly the first time I met Daniel some 13 years ago at Union Station on the 6:05 a.m. train heading to Irvine. For a couple years we shared many morning trips together, the first part davening Shacharit with tallit and tefillin on the train. That there were two of us made it easier and less lonely for me. I had a company car that I kept at the Irvine train station to drive to my office. Rather than take my offer to drive Daniel to his office, Daniel always preferred the exercise of walking from the Irvine station to his office (except for the occasional rainy day).

Daniel moved on to a new position and so did I not long thereafter. Both of us much preferred working closer to home. But I thoroughly enjoyed Daniel's company and I will always remember those train rides.

המקום ינחם אותך בתוך שאר אבלי ציון וירושלים
May Daniel's memory be a blessing.

Fondly,
The Felsenthals
David, Felisa, Michael, Deena and Amira

Devora Korn's hesped (eulogy)

Thank you so much for coming to help us honor the memory of our father. As you already heard, my father was a very special person. There is a lot I have learned from his love of Hashem, Torah and Mitzvos, friends and family.

My father was passionate about Judaism, having become religious in his early 20s. He always loved to share inspirational stories, and often got choked up when retelling the emotional parts.

When I had a weak moment recently, I explained to my father that I didn’t think it was fair that we found out so late in his disease. And my father encouraged me to work on my emunah, and he said, “Was it fair that I have been married to a wonderful woman for over 40 years? Is it fair that I have my children and grandchildren?” He reminded me to  focus on all the brachos in my life. Many of you know, that if anyone ever spoke gossip around him, he would say, not so  subtly, “ No Lashon Hara, no lamed hay.” Recently we started talking about Emunah, and I thought that I would tell you about the CDs that we had been listening to. The same Rav can be found on  LearnTorah.com about strengthening one’s Emunah and Bitachon. It has helped me and I thought that my father was giving me a little mussar to work on my emunah, so I don’t know if anyone wants to join me in that pursuit.

In terms of friends and community, I am so grateful to everyone in this community who has been there for my parents.

There was the community-wide Tehillim at Young Israel with name-change, and I wanted to name the many people who had been there for my parents but I was scared that I would leave names out, but just know that it means so much to us. I also know how much everyone’s time and advice has helped my parents, and they received better medical care because many of our friends who are doctors in the community came offered help where there were gaps in the care. And even the Friday night dinners where people were bringing the dinner and joining my parents for the meals.

And I knew how much the friends meant to him because I was here just a few weeks ago, and I  thought that it was very exciting that I was in from New Jersey, and my father said to me, “I’m going to frozen yogurt with the Perls. You can come.”

And I know how much my siblings meant to my parents. Even recently, two weeks ago, when he was in the hospital, I was still texting him medical questions and he was still giving me answers. And he was proud of us in how we were each continuing in our Yiddishkeit, but we each charted our own paths in Avodas Hashem. And he and my mother were always there for us, in good times and bad.

Today is actually my son’s birthday, a son that I lost 10 years ago. And my parents immediately came out to help us. And I just got nechama that my father is going to be reunited with some of our loved ones.

Moshe's Divrei Preida (Eulogy)

בס"ד    

Israel thoughts

Due to the lack of time I'll speak in English and summarize briefly in Hebrew.  Thank you all for coming out even though it's not an easy hour to say the least. 

בגלל השעה אדבר באנגלית ואתמצת בעברית. דבר ראשון תודה רבה לכולכם שטרחתם להגיע למרות שזו שעה לא פשוטה.

1)      There's a pasuk in Zecharya that can be loosely translated to say the following "I will give you the ability to walk among those that are standing". While the simple meaning of the pasuk places the angels at a higher level, on a deeper level, there is a reference to an advantage we have over the angels, we have the ability to walk, move, and improve ourselves, while angels are static and stuck in one place.  One of the things that most impressed me about my father was his constant motion and yearning to improve.  He was not fortunate enough to have a quality and expensive yeshiva education, like the one he provided for his children, but he was constantly striving to learn more and progress in learning.  Although he started learning at a relatively late stage, recently he was able to replace the magid shiur in daf yomi when needed.  My father was fond of changing siddurim every so often, so that he could improve his tfila by learning a new perspective. In terms of working on his midot, my father was world class, my parents have a library of self help and mussar books that rivals the Library of Congress, and in many different parameters, such as dealing with his personal mourning and anger management my father was able to greatly progress over the years.  He had such a tremendous ability to forgive others, at this point I'm not even able to comprehend how he did it, much less emulate him. 

הפסוק בזכריה אומר "ונתתי לך מהלכים בין העומדים האלה". פסוק זה רומז ליתרון שיש לנו לעומת המלאכים, הם עומדים במקום ואילו אנחנו מסוגלים להתקדם ולשפר את עצמנו. למדתי מאבא שלי מה זה יכולת להתקדם בלימוד תורה, גם אם אין לך רקע תורני, ולמדתי מה זה תיקון מידות והיכולת לשפר את עצמך, גם בגיל מבוגר.

2)      The sweetness of Torah-  In the morning prayers we ask that Hashem make the Torah sweet for us, which seems to be quite an unusual request. We have the Torah, we learn it and that's it, why does it have to be sweet?  It seems that Chazal realized that in order for the Torah to be the cornerstone of our lives it has to be sweet for us.  In the introduction to his book, the Iglei Tal emphasizes this point and says that the main mitzvah of learning Torah is when you learn Torah due to your love for it, and that's the way to truly connect to Hashem.  That is one of the things I really got from my father as did my sisters B"H.  I have vivid memories of my father walking around the house in his bathrobe early Shabbos mornings.  Since at that point he was davening at Chabad he had many hours of "free time" on those mornings.  He would use it for learning, although there were other leisure activities available.  When my great-grandfather was living in LA, my father used to go learn with him on Sunday mornings, and I still remember going with him occasionally, even though I was very young.  He showed me by example what a Torah Jew does with his free time.  My father got tremendous enjoyment out of learning with us and made that a priority in his lives and our lives as well.  He was fond of the statement in Chazal that once Torah is firmly seated in 3 generations that insures the prominence of Torah in that family for future generations as well, and got no greater joy than hearing about Torah related accomplishments of his various grandchildren.

אנחנו למדנו מאבא שלי מה זה אהבת התורה והשקעה בתורה. אחד הדברים החשובים ביותר בעיניו, אם לא החשוב ביותר, היה העברת מסר זה לנו, והוא רווה הרבה נחת מהעובדה שכולנו דתיים ומסורים לתורה ומצוות.

3)      Spiritual Medicine- One of the famous traits of Yosef hatzaddik was that Hashem's name was always on his lips.  Nechama Leibowitz z"l presents an analysis of the psukim showing that Yosef did such a good job of putting Hashem center stage, that he even got Pharoah, a renowned idol worshipper, to talk about Hashem as the one who runs the world. My 7 year old daughter Noa was lamenting that Saba Daniel passed away, commenting that he was such a good doctor who helped her so much.  As a kid I must admit I didn't feel the same way.  My father's solution to everything was "Tehillim and Tylenol" in that order.  Even though I found it frustrating then,  I'm sure that my father's constant focus on Hashem being the boss, it's all "etzba Hashem", learning to accept Hashem's will etc. etc., has helped mold me as a spiritual and committed Jew.  Even though these have been tremendously difficult times, I hope and pray that we will internalize his tremendous emuna in Hashem and use these nisyonot as a growing experience.

אבא שלי היה רופא, אך תמיד שם את ה' במרכז כרופא כל בשר וממנו למדנו איך לראות את אצבע ה' בכל מקום.  אני מקוה שהפנמנו את החומר היטב וזה יאפשר לנו לצלוח תקופה קשה זו ואף לצמוח ממנה.

4)      Commitment to Family:  Off the top of my head I can think of many examples how my father put family first.  As a kid I never really understood why my father would return home so early while my friends' fathers would be coming home much later.  Only when I matured did I realize that by coming home early, my father made a clear statement that significant time with his family was much more important to him than his career or making more money. My father was not a sports fan, and it really bothered him that athletes, many of them not such tzadikim, earned so much money for just playing a game. Nevertheless, he was always gathering sports related information from patients, so that he could relate to me, as a rabid young sports fan, and as a kid we had a weekly minhag to go out and get a copy of Sports Illustrated, even though I assume he would have recommended other reading material. Even though there was a language barrier between him and my younger kids, he worked hard to find a way to connect to each of them. The example he set has left a strong imprint on me and had great influence on the career choices I made and how I conduct myself in my profession as a psychologist.  I often find myself meeting with parents of challenging kids, urging them to get the fathers more involved, I'm sure part of that has to do with my feeling that I'm a better person because of my father's significant presence in my life.  Yesterday one of my kids needed some Abba time so we went out for falafel; I was a little uncomfortable doing so on the night before my father's funeral, but Racheli told me that Abba would definitely approve of that decision; I think that story pretty much sums up the great importance my father placed on family, and the great effect it's had on each of us.

מאבא שלי למדתי מה זה מסירות למען המשפחה וזה השפיע עלי גם בבחירת מסלול מקצועי וגם בהחלטות מקצועיות כפסיכולוג. כשאני יושב עם הורים ומנגס' להם שהאבא יהיה יותר משמעותי בחיי הילדים, אני בטוח שחלק מזה זה בגלל הרושם האדיר שהנוכחות של אבא שלי בחיי הטביעה בי

I hope that we can all continue to learn from my Abba as a very special man.  Not so much by preaching, but by personal example he taught us what it means to live a life dedicated to Hashem and family.

Yosef Korn's thoughts

Yosef Korn, Devora's husband:

Where can I begin in expressing my feelings towards Abba. It is hard to believe that he is no longer with us in this world. I miss him terribly. While I was not a biological child, one could hardly tell the difference if you didn't know. From the day I first met Abba (back in 1999 (June 20th to be exact), and was immediately ushered to the backyard for a party snapper throw (although I think that was Ema's idea!) I have been treated as if I was a 5th Rubin child. I felt Abba's love as if I was a true biological son. The mere fact that he entrusted me to be his son in law and marry my eishes chayil shows how he felt about me. I loved him and will truly miss him. He was a true Abba to me. I could call him with questions, ask for advice and I had no reservations in doing so. To be completely honest, I never really considered him my father-in-law, he was always Abba. While many certainly have highlighted his road to frumkeit and his bein adam laMakom, I really am floored by his bein adam lachaveiro. I do not remember speaking negatively about others. Lashon Hara was a a no-no. He practiced what others preached. While every grandparent has a genuine love for their grandchildren, I cannot get past how much he loved his little kitty kat (Avigayil) and all of the googoopies. I am crushed that Shmuel will probably not remember him but am heartened that Shalom, Akiva and Avigayil (hopefully) will have warm memories of Saba's love. Abba's love of life, family and Torah is a mussar to me. While many talk the talk, Abba walked the walk in how he lived his life. Such a zest and gusto (do I need to say more than just hearing his laugh-which I believe Rabbi Tendler made mention of in his hesped). I cry when I think about how my favorite chag of the year, yes Pesach (chock full of romaine lettuce and Shatzer Matza), and more specifically the seder night(s)(for us chutznikim) will never be the same. The joy of Abba hiding the Afikomen and the kids running around giddily trying to find it is priceless. While we will make new seder memories, those are ones I can never forget. It meant so much, especially in retrospect, that Abba was able to make it to us for Chanukah this past year. The trip was not easy for him by any stretch, but he loved all of us and cancer be damned, he made it and saw his grandkids. I regret never really telling him how I truly felt about him. I hope I lived up to and will live up to being a son in law zocheh to have had a father in law as loving, accepting and genuine as Abba.

Rabbi Elazar Muskin's Hesped (eulogy)

Rabbi Elazar Muskin, Senior Rabbi of Young Israel of Century City:

Funeral for

רפאל דניאל בן קלונימוס

Dr. Daniel Rubin

Day of Death: February 19, 2014 – 19 Adar Rishon, 5774

Day of Burial in Israel: February 21, 2014 -21 Adar Rishon, 5774

My dear Brenda, Devora and friends:

As we are gathered here today, the words of the איוב come to mind: לֹא שָׁלַוְתִּי וְלֹא שָׁקַטְתִּי וְלֹא נָחְתִּי וַיָּבֹא רֹגֶז (איוב ג: כו ) - "I was not at ease, neither was I quiet, nor had I rest, and trouble came."

Since early October when we learned of Dr. Rubin’s illness and gathered here in this sanctuary to change his name, we have all been anxious and alarmed for his health and well-being. We knew that whatever the medical profession could do was being done, and that whatever his devoted family could do was continually being offered without stop. But as he continued to become weaker, we became more and more concerned, and now we must accept that the Almighty Himself decreed that רפאל דניאל בן קלונימוס should suffer no longer.

Rabbi Soloveitchik זצ"ל often noted that the words of Shlomo HaMelech, סוף דבר הכל נשמע
“at the end of the matter all is heard,” can be interpreted to refer to the end of the human career. Only at the very end of the דבר, at the end of the life story of the human being, are we actually able to understand and appreciate the one we have lost. Only now when speech is so difficult, and we can no longer address our loved one, can we really probe and ask who was Daniel Rubin, and what did he mean to us during his 66 years of life? Together, let us therefore paint a portrait of this very special man that will do justice to his memory.

We are in the midst of reading the Torah portions that describe the building of the משכן, the first synagogue in Jewish life. The great 16th century commentator from Prague, the Kli Yakar, tells us that the Torah’s descriptions of the details of the Mishkan are replete with moral lessons. Just as the Torah describes the construction through the delineation of its אורך – its length; רחב – its breadth; and קומה – its height, so too, we must delineate a person’s character in these three dimensions.

First comes אורך –length. The significance of this aspect of conduct is understood in our colloquial terminology when we speak of one’s line of business. אורך therefore implies the business or the profession in which an individual is engaged.

If I were to ask you what was Daniel Rubin’s business, everyone present would say that he was a medical doctor. But honestly he was so much more than just the definition of the word physician. He was blessed with a brilliant mind and graduated UCLA Medical School. He was accepted to the famous Mayo Clinic in Minnesota for his residency, but he turned it down because Brenda was still studying for her degree here in LA.

Dr. Rubin was a true doctor in the entire fiber of his being, and this inspired him to always want to study new areas of medicine in order to benefit his patients. Dr. Arnie Rotter mentioned to me that he never saw someone who could read so fast whatever you gave him, and totally understand what he read with questions to follow. He was board certified in occupational medicine and dermatology, and did two residencies first in dermatology and then in occupational medicine. Daniel Rubin became the “go to doctor” in southern California in the area of toxicology, saving lives when others couldn’t figure out what was literally killing people. With his razor sharp analysis and his unique diagnostic talent, he was able to pinpoint the poisons that were hurting people in certain work environments. He was called upon to consult with some of the largest corporations in the nation, including Teledyne, in order to create safe working conditions.

Daniel never accepted the status quo. His very close friend, Dr. Seymour Perl, confided in me that Dr. Rubin always wanted to be challenged with new opportunities, and when he became bored with one area of medicine, feeling he wasn’t contributing anything new to that field, he moved on to the next, trying to excel and help people live better and longer lives. He was a fiercely independent doctor who would speak his mind and let people know what he thought was right and wrong. This didn’t always sit well with some of the people he worked with, but he wasn’t motivated to win any popularity contest; rather he was motivated to advance medicine.

During his last six years he served as a dermatologist with a medical group that practiced in a very disadvantaged neighborhood. It was here that he became much more than just a dermatologist to his patients. He often became their major medical provider because he realized that they didn’t have anyone else as their advocate helping them with their multiple diseases. What he saw during the day he brought home with him at night, always trying to figure out how to address their needs in the most efficient fashion. His care and concern were what made him the special doctor that we all respected. He was a true רופא חולים.

The second aspect of personality is רחב, breadth. By this we mean our interests and our concerns. For Daniel רחב included everything in this world. There was nothing he wasn’t interested in learning or trying. He loved traveling and seeing the world. He went with Brenda to Alaska, India and South America, and in each place he was thrilled to try whatever adventure presented itself. Brenda would often remark that he was the best traveling companion one could ever imagine, because he was excited and enthusiastic by every opportunity.

Truth, however, was that his greatest interest was his family. He was an amazing son and son-in-law, who knew how to give respect to his parents and to his in-laws, Joe and Bea Herskovitz. He treated them with genuine love. He was a devoted husband to Brenda for 42 years. Brenda was the greatest influence in his life, serving as his guide through thick and thin. He always respected Brenda for her opinions and would listen to her requests. In the end he would do everything exactly the way she wanted things done. In return Brenda was his source of strength and we all stood in awe of how she nursed him with such care and love during these most difficult months. Brenda admired Daniel for his brilliance, warm personality and true sweetness. She was enthralled with his enthusiasm and his optimism, and she loved his sense of humor. But most of all she knew that he was modest and never a show-off, although he was one of the brightest people she ever met. This modesty always allowed Daniel to accept direction and help whenever he needed it and from whoever could offer it.

His major focus in life was his four children: Amira, Moshe, Devora and Racheli. He made sure to be at home for them because that was his priority. He wasn’t motivated to earn more money; rather he wanted to raise his children with good manners and Torah values. As Rabbi Cunin told Dr. Seymour Perl, “Dr. Rubin was an enormous success. All of his children are observant Jews and his nine grandchildren are being raised to follow a Torah lifestyle as well.” This didn’t come from nothing. He invested his time and energy in his children and served as a model for them to emulate. He was the one who instilled in them the need to say ברכות before and after eating, and he was the one who made sure that at every family meal, whether during the week or on Shabbat or Yom Tov there was always a Dvar Torah. His kids respected and loved him, and his son, Moshe, often remarks how his father is his model of excellent parenting that he tries to imitate.

His true Nachat was his nine grandchildren. Although they all lived far away, he made sure to connect with them in every possible fashion. He was so looking forward and anticipating his eldest grandson, Shalom’s, Bar Mitvzah this coming October, and he carefully followed his progress. When he couldn’t see his grandchildren in person he would Skype. During the past few months he was so concerned that they not be frightened by seeing him with his oxygen line that he insisted to remove it so they could envision the סבא they always knew. In early December during Chanukah, when he was already so weak, he literally pushed himself to travel to Bergenfield in order to be with Devora’s children. He wasn’t able to do much because he would get tired quickly and yet, when Brenda asked him how he enjoyed that trip he would respond, “It was amazing. I was with my grandchildren.”

The third and final dimension of one’s personality is קומה, height. By this we mean one’s ability to look up and see the skies above. It means to have faith in the Almighty and to be committed to the Mesorah of our people. Or as the 19th century Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch wrote, “Torah must remain eternal in the midst of the changing sands of time.”
Daniel Rubin was a proof of this commitment beyond a doubt. Daniel was not raised in an observant home and he lost his father at the young age of 14, but by the time he entered Medical School he was searching for a spiritual path to follow. He was intellectually intrigued by Judaism, and when he heard that Rabbi Cunin was opening the first LA Chabad House in Westwood, he immediately decided to investigate what it was all about. What he found there turned into a lifelong love affair with Judaism. He would become what Rabbi Cunin would proudly call, “My first Baal Teshuva.” He would describe Daniel as, “A serious thinking man who combined sweetness and sincerity into a religious personality.” Daniel was 21 when he put on Teffilin for the first time. The next day he joined Rabbi Cunin on a trip to Brandeis-Bardin for a college summer program, and there he helped introduce the college students to Teffilin, as if he was wearing them his entire life.

Daniel’s love of Torah was the reason he met Brenda. They both were attracted to a Torah class given by David Derovan at the UCLA Hillel. That interest in Torah study never left them. Throughout their married life, they would love attending as many Shiurim as possible. In particular Daniel loved attending our Shabbat Hashkama Minyan, which allowed him the ability to learn after Musaf with a group of his friends. Truth is I never remember seeing Daniel without a Mishna or other Sefer in his hand. He would always be learning, because he never wanted to waste any time.

Daniel was an inspiration to all of us who knew him. His love of Judaism included a strong love of the State of Israel. The first place he traveled to with Brenda after they were married was Eretz Yisrael, and they were planning to make Aliyah this coming October, to join two of their four children already living there.

This afternoon a Shul member who received the email announcing his passing sent me a quick note that read, “Daniel Rubin was one of the kindest, most jovial guys I've ever known. Always a hello and always a smile!” Indeed that was Daniel, but what most people didn’t know was that he was an enormous Baal Tzedkah. Never would he allow a Yom Tov to pass without coming over to me with money and clear instructions, “Give this to someone who needs help.” This was the קומה, the great height and stature that Dr. Daniel Rubin possessed. I, like so many rabbis in this community, have lost a friend that will be impossible to replace.

Daniel, it is now your turn to receive the great reward that awaits you. We will miss you, and we will cry due to your physical absence in our lives, but we know that you will look after us from on high. Go in peace and be our messenger for peace.

בלע המות לנצח ומחה אדני אלהים דמעה מעל כל פנים וחרפת עמו יסיר מעל כל הארץ כי ה' דבר

May the words of the Prophet Isaiah, be fulfilled, "He will destroy death for ever; the Lord God will wipe away tears forever...for the Lord hath spoken it." Amen

Racheli's Israel hesped (eulogy)

I am humbled and in awe of the task before me, of sharing divrei preida about the tzaddik who was our father. I will attempt to put that aside as I’d like for you to know a bit more about who Daniel ben Kalanomous was and he certainly deserves an attempt to be appropriately ushered into the olam haemet. I ask mechila of him in general and from him, my mother, and my family, for anything that may be not right about these divrei preida.

Our father was born in Chicago, Illinois on April 22, 1947, early Iyyar 5707. As an aside, I’ve often thought that with my father’s personality, I think it’s a shame that he wasn’t born a few years earlier because he would have been so excited about hakamat hamedina that I’m pretty sure he would have flown here and been a chalutz setting up the State of Israel.

He was one of two sons born to Clifford and Frances Rubin. His father was a lawyer in Chicago who came originally from Hungary and his mother was a beautiful, put together woman who was born and raised in Scotland. My father was very close to his father and he admired him very much. My father took great pride in the fact that, in spite of not being affiliated much religiously, his father used his clout as a lawyer to call other lawyers in Chicago to raise money for the Jewish Federation. Unfortunately, his beloved father, whose name my brother carries, passed away when he was 14. Soon after, his mother and he moved to San Diego to be close to other family.

While he was still in Chicago he went to the same elementary school as my mother even though they didn’t meet for many years later. He was a bunch of grades ahead of my mother, especially since he skipped a grade, but one of his favorite jokes, and he had many, was that he was probably one of the eighth graders who once laughed at my mother when she, as a third grader, came to get something from his teacher.

After graduating with a degree in Chemistry from San Diego State University, he went to UCLA Medical School. My father was always curious, always passionate. His passion and enthusiasm expressed itself throughout his life in everything- like appreciating small, pretty flowers on the side of an ugly freeway, and like going on all sorts of local and far reaching trips with our mother to places such as India, South America, South Africa, China and Alaska. As a good friend of mine told me when my parents were in India- “your parents are cooler than you are!”  But of those things about which my father was the most passionate, Torah and Judaism were at the top of the list.

He, unlike the stereotypic nonreligious Jew, loved Hebrew school and yearned for more. That love and yearning for Torah and Judaism is what lead him and my mother to meet. There was a joint shiur in Torah for the non-religious and religious Jewish communities at UCLA given by Rabbi David Derovan and my parents met there. More than 40 years after becoming Orthodox, my father was just as passionate as ever about Torah and Judaism. As one good friend said to him a few months ago, “you make us look bad.” He went to daf yomi and would have a chazara shiur Shabbat mornings with his friends. He couldn’t buy enough nor read enough sefarim; meals and, often even phone conversations, did not go by without him sharing a dvar torah. When Moshe and I came to visit in December and had some free time and offered to go out with him, watch a movie with him, do whatever he felt up to, he was most excited about having a chabura with us. But his G-d and his Torah were happy and joyful so what he wanted to learn, in the midst of his illness, 

was the positive, uplifting nevuot of Yeshayahu.

He loved fulfilling mitzvoth, loved the chagim, and was a mentsch who made a Kiddush Hashem wherever he went. Whether that was to the African American and Hispanic librarians on our weekly pre-shabbos library trips as kids, to the strangers on the street, or to his nurses who administered his chemo in the last few months, my father brought a smile to everyone’s face with his warmth, care, and bad jokes.  I know that these qualities in addition to his brilliance helped him help many, many people on all levels. He and his religious Hispanic patients bonded over their faith and along with the prescription for the cream that would help them, my father would also prescribe saying specific prakim of tehillim or salmos as they called them.

In another example of his ben adam l’chavero par excellence, my father took the pasuk “lifnei iver lo titen michshol” seriously and was careful, as apparently his father had been before him, to move rocks and branches out of the way to ensure that no one would trip.

In his love of living Torah, he was also looking forward, after my nephew, Shalom’s bar mitzvah this fall, of fulfilling my mother and his life-long dream of making Aliya. Although he will not be able to do so as he wished, as it says in the Gemara in Sanhedrin- . יורש כרעא דאבוה Yoresh Kar-ay d’avuha- the inheritors, the children are the legs of the father- Moshe and I are here planting roots in Israel because of our parents- we are extensions of them and are able to be here because of their support.

My father was a very modest man, who was always looking to learn and grow in all areas. I know no one who worked harder, throughout his life, to become a better person. Even in the last few months, he worked on his emuna and continued to inspire us. There are many examples, but Devora told the story how when she was having a harder moment with his illness, she said to him that it was unfair that the doctors caught the disease in such a late stage. He responded to her: “Is it fair that I’ve been married to a wonderful woman for over 40 years? Is it fair that I have wonderful children and grandchildren?”

My father’s passion for Torah and mitzvoth was no less strong than the overwhelming love and devotion he felt and showed to our mother and to us his kids, kids in law, and his grandchildren. My parents celebrated their 42^nd wedding anniversary in August and he recently remarked that they were more in love than ever. Forty two years is great, but I know that both of them wanted at least 60 if not 70 years together. As our father, none of us doubt for a second how much he loved us. He, together with our mother, were Amira, Moshe, Devora and my biggest cheerleaders- whether it was related to a new haircut, a new outfit, or some accomplishment- it was great, we looked great, we were great.

He was so loving a father that, for example, when we, as children, woke up from a bad dream, he would take a tissue, put cologne on it and tuck us snugly back into bed. As we got older, he communicated that same love and care by sending us on the plane with 5 dollars of shaliach mitzvah money, $20 of “fun money” and a plane letter that he wrote on paper that he fashioned into a paper airplane. He gave that love and devotion easily to every new member of the family. For example, when Eric and I got engaged last May and he found out that Eric’s father had been a jazz musician, he took out a CD six hours long that taught him the basics of Jazz and every phone conversation from thereon included some reference to the syncopation about which he had recently become an expert.

I could go on, but especially with Erev Shabbat, we do not want to keep you. I, on behalf of my family, would like to thank you all so very, very much for you all of your support that you gave, all the tefillot that you said and the zechuyot that you built up for our abba- our worldwide community is an amazing thing and it meant so much to my father and means so much to all of us.

My father was a fighter who fought for things he believed in and was putting up a great fight to live as long as possible. I believe that Hashem may have done a chesed with him and used some of our tefillot to spare him the even more pain that he was about to have to go through. I have no doubt that his seat in shamayim is very, very close to Hashem.

Amidst the pain and longing and wishing that Hashem kept him with us for a lot longer, I pray that my siblings, Eric and I can help carry on his rich legacy of love, passion, enthusiasm, and devotion to family and Torah and commitment to always making a Kiddush Hashem.