NES GADOL HAYAH SHAM
Tue., December 22, 07:06 AM
Those four symbols are the Hebrew letters seen on a Hanukkah dreidel. Right to left, they are Nun, Gimel, Hey, and Shin, which stand for the phrase, “Nes gadol hayah sham” — “A great miracle happened there.” In Israel they do it a bit differently — “Nes Gadol Hayah Po,” or “A great miracle happened here.” Whether you say here in Connecticut or there, the town we lived in at the time, a miracle occurred forty years ago today. It was not unexpected; we had been waiting for nine months. But the arrival of our first-born was no less a miracle for all that. And the middle of winter is when you really need a miracle.
I have to say she has been the model of bringing up a child. You teach her everything you think she should know, and then you sit back and watch her make all the wrong choices. What you cannot do is make them for her. You can only wait and hope that you will be able to help her when she needs it.
It has taken her some time but, despite some circumstances beyond her control, she is growing into what we had in mind in the first place. It just took her a little longer, and I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Certainly I can list some really good things about her.
She has always been able to maintain some kind of job, from the day that I told her that, if she was not going to school, she was required to work. Now some of her doctors think she should not work at all, but she still manages to do a part-time job — and do it well.
She is a loyal friend and generous to a fault. It will still cause her problems, but she is always there for those who need it. (And even for some people who don’t know they need it.)
She is devoted to her aging parents, and that is no small thing. As you know, she has stepped up to be the local caretaker for her dad in the nursing home. He is often nasty to me if I go to visit, or sometimes just frustrating. But he phones her regularly, asking for things he doesn’t really need, and she brings them. She gets in touch with our son, who holds his power of attorney, often to report on a visit or just to say, “Daddy wants to talk to you. Please call.”
Ever since I was diagnosed with breast cancer, she has made it her business to take care of me. Yes, I accepted help from all the kids; I was not going to be all independent just for show. My son talks to doctors, does research when I can’t do it, accompanied me to appointments and chemotherapy. But the U.D. drove me to surgery and did the aftercare — not once but many times. She made it her goal that I would not lose weight when I was in chemo and prepared tasty vegetarian meals for me. (She would have cooked meat if I had requested it.) Even though I often cook for myself again, she is ready to make me something if I ask.
She phones me when she is away — even just at the office — to see how I’m doing. There are days when I have enough energy to do what I have to do, and there are other days when I just want to be old. It is great to have a “roommate” who can and will pick up the slack.
So I have to say, Happy Birthday, my dear, and thank you.
