One Week in Toronto

One week in Toronto was packed with so much life, and none of it planned…by me.

I came primarily to see my mother and found myself attending two shivas of women my age; both had died suddenly, leaving behind devastated families and communities. One I had been close with, another the sister of an old friend and colleague.

I went to visit the 105-year-old mother-in-law of a dear friend who remembers everything from her life and shared stories of running from the Nazis through Europe, eventually finding freedom in Canada.

I also visited with a friend’s 96-year-old mother whose memory was not as sharp but whose countenance was one of joy. She is the last remaining survivor of the 1929 Hebron massacre.

I showed up for dinner with friends whose daughter and son-
in-law had moved in for the Covid months, and the exciting news was their daughter was in labour. They insisted I stay; the labour coach came, my friend wrapped up dinner for all of them to take to the hospital…. The next morning she shared the news– mazal tov, it was a boy!

I attended a brit milah, the grandson of other dear friends, and heard him given the name Daniel, named for the late father of our friend, the grandfather. Our friend burst into tears. Death turns into new life…

Many of those I mentioned above were people who my husband and I, in our years in Toronto, we’re privileged to be part of their Jewish journeys.

Loving families, supportive communities….friendships interwoven in the fabric of my life, all there for one another in sorrow and Simcha.

What are the chances that I would be here in a week where my connection with these events would mean so much to so many….?

My gratitude to the Orchestrator of my life knows no bounds.