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For Margalit – in Memorium
Margalit – our dear, beloved mother and grandmother:
It is no coincidence that your life came to a close on this very date – as we commemorate the passing of our son Eran – your special grandson. In my eulogy at Eran’s funeral five years ago, I related to the assembled how much he loved to eat the burgers that you cooked especially for him. It was clear that you loved to cook for everyone, but for him most of all – your exceptional and beloved grandson.
Within you was instilled a tremendous love for all people – for everyone. I always said that if there truly were the lamed vav tzadikim (36 concealed righteous people) in each generation, that you would be counted among them. You were truly a righteous woman. That was evident in everything you did. You volunteered every week. Over 30 years of volunteering in the neurosurgery unit at Tel HaShomer Hospital; serving on the committee for ‘adopting’ paratroopers; helping at food stations set up for soldiers at hitchhiking posts, and using every occasion to invite peopleto your home, with a heart wide open to all.
The refrigerator in your home was always filled to bursting. I would always say to Didi that opening the door to your refrigerator meant that I must be alert and ready to catch whatever would fly out – lettuce, or a Tupperware filled with potatoes, or fried chicken…
We loved coming over to eat at your house – not only because you cooked so well, but because we were flooded with enormous love and your boundless giving, all peppered with wonderful laughter and your refined version of traditional mock Arabic curses…
Margalit – the way you spoke was unique, and characterized you. So did the love that poured out of you – love that was contagious, and scattered around freely. Love of everything that was good, accompanied by the desire to give without limits, or without reckoning. That love was certainly felt by everyone who came into your sphere, but it was surely sensed most of all by our Eran. I recall you standing for long hours by his bedside during the first year of his life, when all of us were consumed with worry and fear of the unknown, while you prayed for his well-being. You dispensed advice about medicines and elixirs, but more importantly, you were simply there for him and for us – always by Didi’s side and Nitzan’s and mine. During all the years that we raised Eran, you were available for all of us, and made that a priority above all else. You responded immediately – and with complete devotion to our requests for any kind of assistance or support help. Anything we asked for Eran’s sake took precedence. Looking back, I can say that the kind of diligence and dedication that you showed was the sort that earns a medal of valor for bold fighters.
Margalit, our dear Margalit. After four years of suffering and pain you have finally been gathered to a place that you must have yearned for so much. A place of peace, after all the difficult times we endured, after losing Shmulik and Eran, and the wretched head surgery. You have been gathered to a place where two people whom your soul cherished may be found, standing side by side. First your beloved Shmulik – or as you called him, Mol – the boy who lacked salvation after being orphaned during World War II – for whom you became his entire world. And also waiting for you there will be Eran – your special grandson, for whom you would have given the moon.
May you rest in peace, beloved, righteous Margalit. And may it come to pass that the love that you showered upon us, and on the whole world, will be multiplied a thousand fold and scattered as stardust on all of humanity.
With eternal love and yearning,
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