Pragmatist
Pragmatist

Harry's funeral was conducted Friday morning at the Jewish cemetery (Home of Peace).  It had been raining, but skies cleared and it was a nice day.  It was coolish, but the sun was out.  The fruit trees (almonds?) lining the driveway are in bloom.  I thought that was a nice touch.

There were lots of people at the funeral.  I finally got to meet Harry's family, and especially his son, with whom I've had several telephone conversations.  They're all lovely people, and Harry was so proud of them.  Anyway, back to the funeral.  It was a mark of deep respect that the Rabbi conducted the funeral.  He is a Kohen (of the priestly caste),  and must maintain ritual purity, and a cemetery is not a likely place to find a Kohen.  But Harry was one of the charter members of Chabad of Sacramento, and faithfully supported the shul.  He was greatly respected and admired by the Rabbi and the congregants who knew him.  So in honor of a fine man, Rabbi went to the cemetery.

There was a reception following the funeral at the retirement center where Harry lived.  I got there late, got caught in traffic.  I should know better than to take that particular route.  I do know better.  So, most of the people had come and gone, but at least I got to get acquainted with the other members of the family. 

I was much amused by the darling great granddaughter.  She is probably three years old ('m not good at calculating ages), and obviously adored by everyone.  Her auntie was playing where's so-and-so, and the child was pointing accurately at everyone.  When it came to "Where's Grandma?" she pointed to me.  I guess that's the distinction white hair gives.

Well, I miss my good friend.  Harry was a kind, thoughtful, generous friend to me.  It's hard to find such a good friend as he was.  But he's not suffering, and he lived a full, a very full life.

Shalom