Why? Why? “Y” is for Yossi

Tziri Frank

It’s so hard to believe.

But, it’s true.

Yossi is gone.

Three days before Pesach, Hakodosh Boruch Hu decided he needed Yossi’s cheerful smile and pure sweet neshoma back near the Kisei Hakovod where it belongs. And so Yossi has left this world where he had been trapped in his mentally and physically handicapped body, to go to a better place where he is dancing with the malachim and singing and talking and laughing. Yossi is in a place of true happiness, where there is no Frankly Speaking, or SPIRIT magazine, because there is no need for it.  

As a matter of fact, he’s probably guffawing right now at the sight of me sitting here at the computer trying to write something honest and yet humorous about him as the editorial deadline keeps ticking.

But, I miss him. A lot.

And that leaves me with a lot of questions. But apparently it leaves everyone with a whole host of queries too.

“What do I tell people now when they ask if I am the oldest?” asked Atara nervously soon after she heard the devastating news.

“You tell them, I am now!” I answered simply, “trust me, after that they will only ask you once.”

But I don’t think she has ever said that. And I don’t blame her.

“What do I tell people when they ask me how many children are in my family?” wondered Yehudis before the house began to fill for the Shiva.

“You tell them there are five children living at home,” I responded automatically, “it’s what I’ve been saying as long as I can remember, anyway.”

“But they look at you so funny when you say that!” she observed.

She does have a point there.

“Do I have to go to school today?” asked Sonny, never one to pass up on an opportunity.

“OK,” I agreed.

“Wrong answer, Ma!” he complained, “you never did do well on tests, did you?”

“What’s Yossi doing now?” wondered the ever practical Ahuva, never one to waste a moment of her time.

“He’s in Shamayim,” I gave the automatic response, finding some comfort in it, “singing and dancing with the malachim.”

“How did Yossi get up to Shamayim?” wondered little Aliza gazing up at the cloudy skies, “where is the exstallator?”

At that, I must confess, I had no reply.

And then came the questions from the “outsiders”.

“So what are you going to do now?” asked my unofficial “Babysitter” who was assigned to food and telephone duty on the second morning of shiva.

“I was thinking of drinking some water,” I responded glancing at the cup she had just firmly placed in my hand.

Clearly this was not the response she was expecting, and I was met with a puzzled glance. Then she quickly left the room, but I heard her murmuring into the telephone that “I was not ready to deal with things yet…”

“So what are you going to do now,” I was repeatedly questioned by numerous kind hearted and thoughtful friends and family as they flocked to be menachem avel.

“I was going to blow my nose,” I usually replied, wondering if I was annoying people with all the sniffling into my tissue.

Once more I was left with the feeling that this was not the answer they were looking for, because more often than not, they looked at each other with knowing understanding. Then they looked at me in pity and confusion.

“So what are you going to do now,” was the sincere question that a savvy shopper asked on my first foray into the supermarket “since….”

“I was going to pay with a credit card,” I stammered wondering how she knew my of my financial dilemma, “’Cuz I’m afraid my check may bounce…”

“I heard you were not coping well,” she said sympathetically as she handed me yet another tissue, “I guess it’s true.”

But I didn’t even pay attention, because I had finally realized that I was getting the same question over and over again.

“Why do people keep asking what I am going to do now,” I wondered aloud.

“We want to know if you are going to keep writing about your son in the SPIRIT magazine,” came the reply, “because it gives so many people such chizuk to read about your trials and tribulations, no pressure of course…. There is another issue coming out next week though, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I continue writing?” I questioned, honestly confused.

At this she looked distinctly uncomfortable, probably wondering why she hadn’t decided to make a beeline for canned vegetables when she had originally spotted me contemplating the astounding array of culinary wonders in the frozen food aisle.

“Well….,” she stammered nervously, unsure how you tell a person the devastating news that they should so clearly be acquainted with, “since your son….you know….”

“Oh!” I said as the neuro-transmitters in my brain finally kicked into high gear, “you mean since Yossi passed away!”

Then I clearly had a brain malfunction, “why would I stop writing now?”

I never did get an answer, and I never did buy the frozen pizza that is a staple item in the Frank diet. But I did get a couple more questions. And many of them centered on the inescapable fact that if the source of my inspiration for this column, and so many of the activities that I and my family had become involved in over the years was no longer here, than the logical result would be a cessation of these actions.

Except that logic was never my strong point. Apparently it is something the rest of my family shares as well.

“What are we serving at the L’Chaim” asked my husband as we prepared for the Hakomas Matzaiva and the Shloshsim.

“Huh?” I asked.

“I think I will whip together two Kiddush size potato kugels,” he went on completely oblivious to my confusion, “if we keep them in the oven overnight, they’ll be perfect.”

“Huh,” I responded, “L’chaim? After a Hakomas Matzaiva? Isn’t that like an oxymoron?”

“That driver sure is a moron!” he concurred, “did you see what he just did?”

That was when I decided that all things considered, it would be no big deal to set up for a lchaim. After all, people were travelling in, and what Yiddisha Mama doesn’t want to feed all those that cross her path? Besides, it turns out that it is a minhag to have a l’chaim after a somber ceremony such as this, to reaffirm life.

Sure enough, it turned out to be a nice shindig, even if I did have to tone it down more than I would have liked. And it was in middle of it all that I realized that I had the answer to the questions that had been asked of me so often in the last couple of weeks.

What will we do now?

Of course my family and I will continue to do all the Shabbatons, and workshops, and respite activities that became a part of our lives because of Yossi. He was the catalyst that brought awareness into our lives for the appreciation we need to have for all that we do have. He was the source of inspiration that propelled us into a world that for all its trials and tribulations, offers tremendous potential for self growth and fulfillment. Yes, Yossi was the reason for the people we have all become, but now that Yossi fulfilled his tafkid in shaping our lives, we will never go back. We will continue with all that we have begun because of him.

So, will I continue to write the Frankly Speaking column for SPIRIT?

Of course I will!

I just may need to “borrow” someone else’s stories….