My Nuna Alice
Eulogy 2/10/08
By: Ezra Mizrahi

It is with a heavy heart that I come before you all today.

The Gemara in Masechet Berachot teaches us:

והזהרו בזקן ששכח תלמודו מחמת אונסו, דאמרינן: לוחות ושברי לוחות מונחות בארון

The Rabbis warn us to be careful with how we act towards a Torah scholar who forgot his studies because of age or illness. He is symbolized by the broken Luhot HaBerit, which rested together in the holy ark with the complete Luhot HaBerit. They are equally important, and must be equally respected.

Although our rabbis teach us this lesson regarding a Torah scholar, the same concept holds true with an elderly individual, who lost their ability to remember, relate or even recognize.

My Nona’s world revolved around my grandfather, Ezra Mizrahi Ben Sarah A”H. She was devastated when he passed away in 1990. She lived on for nearly 18 years without her beloved Ezra, but she was never the same. As the years progressed, she started to show signs that she could no longer take care of herself and in 2001 she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.

This was a difficult time for everyone in my family. My mother, along with my uncle Moni and Aunt Mira who used to drive from long distances, all worked relentlessly to lovingly care for Nona. However, the actions of my father had a profound effect on me. The first person she would see in the morning upon awaking and the last person she would see before closing her eyes at night- was my father.

The level of care and devotion that he showed his mother is seared into my mind. My father’s actions taught me, more than any lecture could, on how one should care for their parents. However, as time passed, my father’s efforts would prove to not be enough. Nona Alice needed full-time care. From that point forward, she began a losing battle with Alzheimer's, reaching a point where she did not recognize her very own family.

She was effectively taken from us years ago.

Oy Lanu, woe onto us, for not seeing her more often. I must ask my Nona for forgiveness. It was so hard for me to see her. She did not even know me. Oy Lanu for not being there, for not being there to hold her hand as she lost her battle with a terrible disease.

My Nona used to come babysit for us when I was little. Once, we were sitting together in my parents living room, cuddled on the sofa, and she told me how much she enjoyed dancing, and how she really was a great dancer. Now, at the time, I was about 9, and as far back as I could remember, my Nona was a healthy-sized woman. The image of her dancing, made me laugh. She reassured me, grabbing my ear, telling me that she was not always, as I saw her that day; she used to have a beautiful figure and used to glide on the dance floor for hours on end, at simahot or even in her own kitchen.

My Nona-Alice was the matriarch of the family. She married my grandfather, Ezra Mizrahi A”H, when she was about 20. She worked to be an Eshet Hayil, and built a home around my grandfather. Together they raised three sons, tirelessly toiling for them and guiding them in life, leading them to their respective weddings. They had an active hand in helping each son marry and establish their own families. She always stressed family unity. And even as the families grew, she always kept track of everyone’s birthday, and would have a card ready on that special day. In fact, just last night, we found one of the cards that she had given me when I was younger, it reads:   [READ CARD VERBATUM: “To my sweetheart Eric, I wish you very happy birthday, add 120, good health, amen. I love you so much. Best wishes and lots of luck. With love, many kisses from Nona Alice”]

I used to feel loved and cherished when I used get cards like this from my Nona. At the time, I enjoyed the cash. But as I have grown older, the cash is gone, but the card remains. The inscription remains. Her calling me “sweetheart” remains. It is this type of love that my Nona used to give me.

As I look back on a lifetime of beautiful, sweet memories, Lel Pesah stands out the most. My Nona used to work diligently in creating a wonderful seder that we would all enjoy. As the evening progressed, she would regale us with her Arabic rendition of “Ehad Mi Yodeyah”. As she would sing, I used to add hand movements and gestures that would suggest the different passages she was singing. She used to laugh so hard when I used make the sign for a Berit Milah or Yarhe Ledah. It is that smile that I will remember most. It was a warm, protecting, inviting, smile. Oh how she loved to give to her family.

The same was true on Mosaei Yom Hakippourim. My Nona had a special custom to work up a whole meal, and invite everyone over to partake in the seouda. If it was her delicious Melouheye or homemade lemonade that she used to serve out of a pot with a soup-ladel, specially made for breaking the fast, we all looked forward to being there with her.

The food was not what was important. The women in our community are more than just great cooks and housekeepers. They create the environment for a family to come together, to laugh, and to relate to one another. So was true of my Nona-Alice. I will always cherish those memories- the sweet singing of Ehad Mi Yodeah on Lel Pesah, the joy and love that graced her table after a long hard day of fasting on Yom Kippour- for as long as I live, I will never forget the warmth, the love & the smile of my Nona-Alice.

This love for giving began well before she was “Nona”-Alice. Almost sixty years ago, while my Nona was carrying a child, she ran to help her eldest brother Solomon and his wife. After a number of miscarriages, her sister-in-law was forced to remain in bed during most of her pregnancy. During this time, although my Nona was pregnant herself, she sought after all the responsibilities of the house. With her help, a healthy baby was born. This is the type of woman my Nona-Alice was. She would put her personal needs aside, for the needs of her family.

            I have pangs of guilt because I didn’t visit Nona as much as I should have. But seeing her the way she was and not the way she used to be was so hard for me to bear. But I owed my Nona more than that. So last Wednesday morning, when my father called me and uttered the words that my Nona had passed on, I rushed to be one of the first in her room. I had to be there.

When I entered her room just after her death, I placed my hand on that once smiling face.

I held her face.

She was still warm.

I was holding the shell of my Nona–a once vibrant, happy, smiling person had wasted away to a mere shadow of her former self.

I said goodbye, and took part in preparing Nona for Olam HaEmet, giving my Nona the last respect she deserved.

But I couldn’t cry for Nona.

After her long 7-year struggle with a devastating disease that robbed her and all of us of the essence of who she was- she was finally free –

Finally free of the body that kept her locked in a chair and later a bed for years.

Finally free from the disease that erased her mind and her youthful spirit.

Finally free to once again dance with her beloved husband, for eternity.

ברוך דין האמת

תהיה נשמתה צרורה בצרור החיים, אמן.

On behalf of father, I was asked to thank the following individuals for their help throughout the years with my grandmother. Joyce Chehebar was instrumental in getting my Nona the care she needed. My grandmother’s dear sister Allegra, who helped feed my grandmother on a weekly basis. Ziza Masri & her husband, along with Ziza Saada, and of course all the other nieces and relatives that helped make a difficult situation - better. Your hesed was a true hesed, and may Hashem bless you and your extended families in all your future endeavors, Amen.