Coda

In September 2006, at 88, my mother had a mini-stroke for which she refused to go the hospital. To my urging under the pressure of her favorite grandson, Greg, an emergency room doctor, my mother said, ”I am not going to let them kill me so that you have peace of mind”. I let her be. She recovered quite well. She read, painted, wrote and spoke on the phone. She also came to our house but only if I drove her. She was no longer leaving the house on her own.

This diminished but functional condition stabilized and we enjoyed my mom’s company, could talk to her, hug her.

Mom, in her apartment, telling a story, surrounded by her art

92nd birthday

93rd birthday

With me and Judy

Greg lives in Pennsylvania and every time I visited I brought enlarged prints of photos of Greg’s family. Mom cherished them, eagerly showed then to any visitor and would tell coherent stories of his life, filling in the blanks with her imagination.

Greg, Marsha and Evie

Mom was able to greet Judith’s husband, Yonatan, into the family in 2013 and hold their first child, Roat, in 2015, she saw, but already could not hold their younger daughter, Tiferet.

Yonatan, Judith, Roat and Tiferet.

Then the hard part started. My mom was no longer with me. Her body persisted, failing her at every turn, but where did her beautiful mind go? Mom still would have said, “Again I was lucky”: Greg, her oldest and endlessly beloved grandson, a doctor, was involved in his grandmother’s care. He was my support, my rock. Mom also had wonderful caregivers, Marina and Alla, who made her life as comfortable as possible to the very last minute.

On June 1st, 2017 my mother passed away in her sleep.

In her life she had one hospital stay: my birth.

My mother gave me firm instructions on her burial. “No burying into the ground. ONLY cremation. Disperse the ashes in the ocean.”

Such instructions are against the Jewish Law. Greg and Judith are observant Jews and were concerned. It did not make me happy to disrespect their beliefs, but my duty was to my mother, the dearest friend of my entire life.

We buried the ashes of Larisa Striliver’s body at sea on June 4th, 2017.
I will miss her for my finite forever.

Alla, I and Marina at my mon's burial

P.S. The Ring

In my childhood I remember my mother showing me a ring she always wore and telling me, “See, this is my mother’s ring, I wear it and remember her every day. Ninochka, one day, when I am gone, you will wear this ring and remember me.” Naturally, I was terrified of this talk and hated the ring.

Many years later we left the Evil Empire, and since one could not take out old jewelry, my mom had to leave the ring behind. An optimist and a pragmatist, she did not complain. I was overjoyed: the accursed ring was not going to haunt me anymore.

My mom, wearing the ring at the time of her wedding.

Years went by, and once, in some store, I saw a cheap costume ring in its shape and color similar to my mother’s ring. Almost as a joke, I bought it for my mom. She loved it and wore it often.

Mom wearing the costume ring

Many more years went by and my dear mother passed away. Sad tasks of closing out a life were upon me. One day, as Salvation Army was picking up my mom’s furniture, I heard a sound. A ring fell out of a crevice onto the floor. It was that very same replacement ring. I put it on.

And so it came to pass, just as you had said once, mamulya:

 I am wearing your ring, I am thinking about you. And you are gone.

The costume ring on me:(