A call to Helen brought more disturbing news. Her gynecologist had told her that he thought the fetus was too small. As much as I tried to console her by saying, “You have at least four more weeks left until you give birth; the baby grows a lot in those last weeks,” my words sounded lame even to me. Now we could do nothing but wait. I was, if possible, even more on edge than before.
The last night I spent in Petah Tikva was very hot, so I decided to move my bedding to the floor of the porch. During the late evening, Motti came to me crying. He did not want me to leave. I felt awful. That night, we slept on the floor together.
Leaving the baby was so hard. I worried endlessly. When I looked in on her just before we left for the airport, I saw her in her favourite position in her crib: rocking on all fours with her little bum covered by only a diaper. That sight is etched in my memory. I was sad beyond description when I left Marvin and the boys at the airport. I did not know how he would manage with the added responsibility of a baby. But Marvin was wonderful. He smiled and told me not to worry and that we would be in touch. I promised that Stefan and I would visit again soon, and then I was on my own.
I arrived in Oslo in the evening, to find Beks waiting for me at the airport. This time, I stayed in Norway only a few days. I was anxious to get back home because of Helen’s fast-approaching due date. When I called Helen, she was in a much better frame of mind. At her last checkup, her gynecologist had assured her that the fetus had had a growth spurt and that he was no longer worried about its size. As always, just walking the streets of Oslo and hearing the familiar language spoken all around me put the spring back into my step and made me feel more optimistic. The short side trip had served its purpose.
Stefan and I went to see Helen a few days before she was due to give birth. She was well and anxious to get the ordeal over with. Soon after we arrived home, there was a phone call from Murray informing us that Helen had delivered a baby girl weighing six pounds. Mother and child were fine. Instead of being relieved and happy that all was well, I suddenly became very nervous and anxious and could not wait to get back into the car to drive to Toronto. I had to see Helen and the baby with my own eyes to convince myself that they were both fine.
That evening, we went to see Helen and her little daughter. The baby was sleeping in a crib next to Helen’s bed. She was so sweet — a tuft of black hair covered her head, and the little face was heart-shaped. She actually resembled her dad a bit when she was a newborn. She was to be called Erin, a name that was totally unfamiliar to me then.
We visited again when she was three months old, an adorable baby whose smile could melt stones. It was just before Helen was due to go back to work. She had hired a Swedish nanny to take care of Erin but was very reluctant to leave her. At that point, she would gladly have given up any thoughts of a career and stayed at home. But as hard as it was, she went back to work.
In October of 1985, just before we were leaving for Israel to visit Marvin and his children, Stefan felt a curious pain on the top of his head when he showered. When the pain travelled down to his eye, he went to see his doctor. Doctor Gomberg diagnosed his condition immediately but told Stefan only that it was a form of neuralgia. He gave him a prescription in case the pain got worse, and we left for Israel on schedule.
Motti and Shmuli were really happy to see us again. The baby was sleeping when we arrived, and I marvelled that she did not wake up in all the commotion. She had grown so much during the past few months! Her hair was still reddish and looked like it would become curly in time. When she woke up, she smiled at us as though she knew us. Obviously, she was used to strangers.
Marvin had rented an apartment for us near the beach in Herzliya, and Stefan and I walked on the beach every morning. It was beautiful and relaxing. Then we would buy some rolls for breakfast and wait to hear from Marvin. Most days he came to pick us up, despite the fact that he was quite busy. The storage centre had now become a reality, and although its construction was not yet finished, we were impressed with what he had accomplished during a time of such personal difficulties. Some of the storage cubicles had already been rented, and Marvin felt that this venture would turn out to be very successful.
One evening when we were watching the news on TV in Marvin’s living room, Stefan suddenly moaned and held his head. This was his first severe pain with what turned out to be trigeminal neuralgia, more commonly known as tic douloureux. The three of us became very concerned, and the following morning Marvin took Stefan to a neurologist, who immediately recognized the symptoms. He advised Stefan to start taking the medication that Dr. Gomberg had prescribed and confirmed that it was a certain type of neuralgia that would probably go away again by itself.
After three weeks in Israel, we returned home. It was difficult to leave Marvin and the children. Although Marvin never complained, we knew that his life was filled with hardship and there was little Stefan and I could do to help.
The pain that Stefan had experienced in Israel was fortunately infrequent at first, but Stefan never felt really well. Less severe tics plagued him constantly, and the neurologist in Montreal, whom we consulted, increased his medication. The pills caused Stefan to be tired all the time, so he slept a lot and found it difficult to concentrate. The illness literally took over our lives. Stefan felt better intermittently, but the worry about further attacks was always with him — and me. When his pain was severe and he insisted that he could drive his car anyway, I was nervous and tense until he returned. I had to force myself to go on with my daily activities.
We tried to go to Toronto every six weeks or so to see little Erin. New toys, appropriate for her age, appeared between each of our visits, and we could see that this child would never lack for anything. Both Murray and Helen spent every free minute with the baby and took her along wherever they went on weekends. Their nanny took good care of Erin in their absence.
Stefan was planning to visit Marvin by himself in the winter of 1986. He had felt reasonably well for a while and was anxious to see Marvin and the children. A date for his departure had been set. To our surprise, Marvin asked him to postpone his trip for a little while. He had met a woman with whom he wanted to spend as much time as possible, since she was only a visitor to Israel. He had met Gail.
Global Connections
During the winter of 1986, Marvin’s friends began urging him to start dating. He met with a few young women over coffee, none of whom acknowledged the existence of his three children. For Marvin, their omission immediately ended what had not even begun. Marvin eventually met Gail through his friends Mindy and Johnny, who had come from England years earlier and belonged to the Anglo-American Modern Orthodox group that had befriended Lily and Marvin.
Gail and Mindy were friends from England, and when Gail came to Israel to spend a few days with Mindy and Johnny, Marvin was invited to their home for a purpose. Gail was unattached, had never been married and had no children. She was twenty-six years old, a lawyer by profession and from a Modern Orthodox background. Mindy thought that perhaps Gail and Marvin might become interested in each other. And she was right.
Marvin and Gail went out a few times before Gail met his kids. She was very impressed with the three of them. They obviously behaved well in her presence, and no one could possibly resist little Shoshana’s smile. When Gail went back to England, it was with the understanding that she and Marvin would continue seeing each other either in Israel or in Manchester. It was a brief courtship. Gail spent Pesach with Marvin and the children at a hotel in Israel, and Marvin went to England for a brief visit. When we spoke to him, he sounded happier than he had in a long time. And the announcement was not long in coming. He and Gail would get married — when and where had not been decided yet. What had been decided, though, was that they would live in Montreal for the next two years. Gail did not want to live in Petah Tikva, where everyone had known Lily, until she felt more secure in her role as a mother to Marvin’s children.
This was a wonderful turn of events for us. We immediately began looking for a small house for Marvin’s family and found a condominium townhouse not far from where we lived. Marvin and the children were due to arrive in Montreal in June, and Gail would arrive a week before in order to be here to welcome her future family. They would all stay with us until the repairs to their house had been completed.
I had spoken to Gail several times on the phone, so we were able to identify each other when I met her at the airport. A pleasant-looking young woman pulling a carry-on turned out to be my future daughter-in-law. After the first awkward minutes, we soon found common ground. Gail was an agreeable house guest. She was a cultured and knowledgeable person with whom it was easy to get along.
I showed her their house, and she was very happy with it — there would be enough room for everybody and some privacy for her and Marvin. In our conversations, we also touched upon the objections her parents had to her marriage plans. I told her that I could well understand them, but, when all was said and done, it was her life. I hoped she realized the difficulties she would invariably face.
Before we knew it, the day came for the rest of the family to arrive. I remember that Gail put some toys on the bed in our bedroom so that the children would have a nice surprise waiting for them. I was very touched by this gesture.
Stefan, Gail and I went to the airport to meet Marvin and the children. After a long wait, we saw them finally emerge, Shoshana in Marvin’s arms and the boys running to meet us. When Shoshana saw Gail, she said “Gailie” and leaned toward her. I had a momentary pang of jealousy, but how could the baby possibly have recognized us? In the six months we had not seen her, she had turned into a beautiful little girl, with reddish wavy hair and the same sweet smile she had always had. Marvin called her Shooshoo, a name that has stuck to her even until today.
Gail and Marvin got married in Manchester, England, and unfortunately we could not attend the wedding, as we needed to take care of the children. When the two returned to Montreal as husband and wife, Marvin seemed much happier for a while. He had been well received by Gail’s parents and relatives, and the wedding and reception had been lovely. The couple had spent one day in a luxury hotel before coming back to Canada. To celebrate the occasion, I hosted a party at our house, to which I invited all our friends.
•
Stefan’s illness came in waves. There were times when he suffered terribly with his tics and took a lot of medication, and other times when the tics decreased and he managed with fewer pills. He was never totally at ease, so neither was I. In the summer of 1987, Stefan found the pain of his neuralgia almost unbearable. He took the maximum medication his body could tolerate and would fall asleep as soon as he sat down. Our neurologist finally consented to referring him to the then-chief of neurosurgery at the Jewish General Hospital for what they referred to as a “procedure.” Because Stefan was in such agonizing pain most of the time, the hospital admitted him as soon as the request was made. What we did not know was that the chief of neurosurgery was away on holiday and wasn’t due to return until two weeks later. In the meantime, Stefan became weaker and more demoralized with every day he spent in the hospital.
When the chief of neurosurgery finally returned from his vacation, he explained to us what he would do to eliminate or at least lessen the pain Stefan was enduring. With the help of a special machine, he would burn part of the trigeminal nerve. Since the procedure might endanger the proper functioning of Stefan’s left eye (the side of his face that was affected), he would take care not to go too deep. Stefan would stay in hospital the day of the procedure but would be released the following day.
The first few days at home following the procedure were exceedingly difficult. Stefan was weak, in a great deal of pain and very discouraged. But as the days passed, his pain lessened, and for more than a year he managed with very little medication. Our lives became more normal again.
•
Gail came to Florida with Shooshoo in March 1988. I was very surprised when Gail told me that she was pregnant. The baby was due in August. Shooshoo was as cute as ever. During their visit, Stefan caught a cold and lost his voice, so all he could do was whisper. One day, when Shooshoo was sitting on his lap, she began whispering to him, perhaps thinking that this was the normal way for them to communicate. Then and many times in the ensuing years, there were moments when I loved this little girl so much that it hurt.
Two babies were expected in 1988 — Gail’s in August and Helen’s second child in November. I can recall a visit to Helen and her family that summer. They were already in their new, large home, and when Helen returned from Ottawa late in the afternoon, I thought, She really looks like a young executive. Dressed in a lovely summery maternity dress and carrying a briefcase, her appearance was that of the consummate businessperson she had already become. Her business travels were mostly confined to day trips then.
Gail worked in the office until just before Ashi was born. Gail’s parents arrived in time for the brit milah, and so we finally met our in-laws. Both Stefan and I liked the Yaffes immediately. Gail’s father was a doctor my age and about ten years older than her mother. Ashi was their first grandchild, and they were delighted.
The brit milah for our youngest grandson, Benjamin, was held at Helen and Murray’s home. The services of an old friend of Marvin’s from London, Ontario, who was both a mohel and a pediatrician, had been engaged, and the ceremony was quickly over.
In October that year, we moved into a new, bigger condo unit in Florida, which stood us in good stead that winter. Marvin, Gail and their children came down to Florida for the winter vacation, as did Gail’s sister Estelle and a friend of hers, Johnny. While Estelle and Johnny did not stay with us, we saw a lot of them, and they were nice to have around. It was a very happy time for me. I loved showing off our new condo, where I was actually able to make room for Marvin’s whole family. While they were with us, we celebrated my sixtieth birthday. I felt physically young and strong and fortunate to have our cute grandchildren around me. Marvin, Motti, Shmoo and Shooshoo loved the pool, and their squeals of joy could be heard from miles away.
For me personally, 1989 was a big year — it was the year of the computer. Stefan had enjoyed our new Florida condo so much that he made plans to spend much more time there in the winter. But what would I do with my work? I could not possibly stay away for weeks on end and still keep on working and I had no intention of giving it up. The solution was obvious: I had to become computer literate. Gail offered to be my tutor. We bought an nec laptop computer, which did not look anything like the sleek laptops of today. After the software was installed, Gail gave me my first lesson — how to turn the computer on and off.
Frankly, I was totally scared of this new tool that I would have to master before the onset of the coming winter. We had bought the computer in June, and in order to practise, I decided to enter all the figures between January, the beginning of our fiscal year, and June. For two weeks, Gail was constantly available on the phone whenever I needed her and had even compiled a tutorial for me as added help. No one could have been more devoted to the cause than she was, and by the time Stefan and I went to Russia and Norway that summer, I had mastered both the bookkeeping program and WordPerfect. I was thrilled.
•
I had wanted to go back to Norway for a visit, and since Stefan was still feeling reasonably well and was not taking too much medication for his tic douloureux, we decided to take a tour in Russia and end our trip with three days in Norway. It was our first big trip in quite some time, and I was really looking forward to it. Russia was not a country that was visited by tourists a great deal at that time. We flew to Helsinki, Finland, stayed there for a day and then continued on to Moscow the following day. My first and lasting impression of Moscow was that the city was hot, big and old.
We stayed in Moscow for three days and were taken to the different tourist site
s, among them the Kremlin and the nearby famous gum department store. With its arcades and high ceilings, this store was like nothing we had ever seen before.
From Moscow, we flew to Kiev. The following day was Friday, and when we returned in the afternoon to our hotel from our sightseeing tour of the city, Stefan and I were astonished to see two Hasidic Jews in full regalia, long black coats and black hats, waiting for the elevator. Needless to say, they aroused our curiosity, so Stefan went over to speak to them. It turned out that they were teachers from New York who had come to Russia to bring prayer books and visit the few remaining Jews in the city.
They told us the location of the synagogue in Kiev and invited us to their room for kiddush (a blessing over wine that ushers in Shabbat) around 10:00 p.m. that evening. Shabbat would start very late because sundown in Kiev would be around that time. In the evening, we went to the synagogue. It was before Shabbat, but a few congregants had already arrived in the old and dark synagogue. A young man who spoke a bit of English told us that he was studying Hebrew in preparation for making aliyah to Israel.
From there, we went to Babi Yar on the outskirts of the city. The evening was cool and rainy, and the sight of the ravine, where so many Jews had lost their lives during the Holocaust, was unspeakably sad.
When we returned to the hotel, we decided to pay the two teachers from New York a visit. It turned out to be an unforgettable Erev Shabbat (eve of Shabbat). A candle had been lit on the small night table between the two cots in the room. The room, which was as tiny as ours, was incredibly neat. Our hosts had managed to stow away their suitcases underneath their cots and had created an atmosphere of total calm in preparation for Shabbat. We were each handed a paper cup with wine, and, instead of bread, they produced a slice of matzo. They explained that they had brought all their food with them for the duration of their two-week stay, since they had not known if there would be any kosher food available in Russia. So while prayer books occupied one of their suitcases, the other was filled with assorted foods, such as tuna, matzo and various other items that would not spoil. I could not help but admire their resolve, and I think the others felt the same way. This was an encounter none of us would ever forget.
Silent Refuge Page 17