Every time I go to my daughter’s house for Shabbos, and see ‘Uncle’ Morris’s candlesticks alight on her shelf, I think of that sweet, gentle man who came into our lives when we were in the first years of our marriage.
Not long after we were married, we joined a kehilla in a London suburb. A short time later. ‘Uncle’ Morris’s wife passed away and my husband went regularly to the shiva to make up the minyan. He discovered that ‘Uncle’ Morris had no children and no relatives that ever showed any interest in him.
From then on we adopted ‘Uncle’ Morris and became his family. He lived quite near us and ate with us on Shabbos and Yom Tov, coming home with my husband after shul. As our family grew he came to all our milestone life events including birthday parties. I don’t think the children even realized he wasn’t a real uncle as they saw more of him than most of their other relatives. It was clear that he enjoyed being part of our family and we have treasured photos of him happily participating in our children’s parties.
‘Uncle’ Morris had told us that when he died he wanted our eldest daughter Rachel to have his wife’s candlesticks, but we brushed it off hoping he would use them for many more years as although not young, he was healthy and active.
When our oldest child was eight we decided to start putting our aliyah plans into action. We knew that if we left it any longer it would be more difficult for him to integrate into school and learn a new language. Our families and friends, including ‘Uncle’ Morris of course, had all known we intended to make aliyah, it was just a question of when.
We decided to take a pilot trip to visit a few places where we considered living and to check out job opportunities. As this was before the days of cell phones it was only when we spent a few days with relatives in Jerusalem at the end of our trip and made a few phone calls back home, that we were told that ‘Uncle’ Morris had died suddenly.
We were shocked and terribly upset. Even now, many years later, I can’t help wondering if our imminent aliyah had been a catalyst. We heard that he had been in hospital for a day before he passed away. We wished that we had been with him at least then – but obviously Hashem had decided that we wouldn’t be there.
When we returned the gabbai of the shul, who is also a lawyer, told us that he had visited ‘Uncle’ Morris in hospital and he had told him that he wanted us to take everything we wanted from his home and the gabbai added, “He said something rather odd. He said ‘ Don’t forget the Pesach matzah.’ I can’t imagine what he meant as it’s only just after the Yomim Noraim. I suppose he was confused – he was niftar shortly afterwards.”
My husband and the gabbai went to his home to take the candlesticks and perhaps another small momento. We didn’t need anything to remind us of this lovely friend who had become part of our family but the shock of his sudden passing while were away was still difficult to absorb. The house did not belong to ‘Uncle’ Morris and we were sure that when the owners took back the house they would presumably throw out everything that belonged to him, as there was nothing of any particular worth. My husband wanted to remove his sefarim, wine bechers, etc., so they could be respectfully dealt with and not thrown to the garbage.
As he removed the machzorim from the shelf to place in a box, an envelope fell out of the Pesach machzor. It contained several thousand dollars.
It wasn’t Pesach matzah he had been talking about, it was his Pesach machzor.
When, many years later, our eldest daughter Rachel gave birth to her first child I happily gave her the candlesticks that ‘Uncle’ Morris had bequeathed her seventeen years previously.
Until then I had kept and used them as I knew ‘Uncle’ Morris had wanted them to be lit regularly and as Rachel had received candlesticks from her parents-in-law when she got married it was only once she had children that she started to light more candles.
All our children, even those born in Israel, have heard about ‘Uncle’ Morris. Knowing he had no family, we keep his memory alive and on his yahrzeit and say Kaddish. And Rachel who still remembers him, also lights a yahrzeit candle l’ilui nishmat Moshe ben Efraim.
