"It's been a long walk. A wonderful walk"

These are the words that dear old Seymour Krasney said many times in the last week of his life.  That life of 93 years ended today at 1:50 pm EDT.  Soon afterwards we raised our glasses of vodka and tonic, his favourite drink, to him as he lay, already a jaundiced shell, in his little apartment on the West Side of Manhattan. 

The other words he said over and over in his rapid decline were "thank you" and "I love you".  His death was quick and, until the very end, fairly pain-free -- although people of his generation, tested by the Depression and the Second World War, were stoic beyond the understanding of people today.  When he said, in his bed, "I'm comfortable," I do believe it was his way of saying, "I'm in pain but I'm more worried about you.  It's really OK."

He accepted me as a son.  I loved him like a father -- a far better one than I had in my early years. 

The funeral is tomorrow.  The burial is immediate. 

Verra' la morte
E avra' i tuoi occhi

May he listen to Don Carlos, his favourite opera, for eternity.

Goodbye, Seymour.  Addio.  Addio.  "Nessun dorma...mai..."

Here is the eulogy that Ken and I wrote for Seymour, which Ken (I?) will deliver at the funeral tomorrow morning.

We’ve lost our patriarch. 

Seymour

. Dad. Brothah, as Aunt Bunny always called her adored big brother. Uncle Brother, as her sons called him. 

 It’s hard to sum up a life of 93 years in a few paragraphs. Harder still to sum up Dad’s and my relationship of 56 years. But this is true: I loved Dad the better I got to know him as a person, not just a parent.

Dad knew the rare art of being a steadfast friend…the grace of treating people generously and compassionately…the comfort of loving our family more deeply and less judgmentally as time passed. 

I think it’s Dad’s spiritual generosity and sense of humor that have most struck me these past weeks. Dad never complained. He never grew angry or selfish. He blamed no one as he lay dying. He worried about the comfort and well-being of others. If I did some simple thing for him he thanked me ten times. If Amy was there all day he’d say, “Go home darling. Don’t you have a family?” He told us repeatedly we were his treasures and his blessings.

And he’d tell me – again and again – “Make sure Lisa and Andrea – his hospice nurses -- have a good dinner. Pay them generously!”

Like everyone who’s getting weaker, Dad was deeply embarrassed by his dependence. But he’d bounce back with many thank-you’s and little jokes.

I know I’ll never forget his calmness in the face of his own death. Like Socrates, a comparison he would greatly appreciate. For

Seymour

was a man of art, ideas…a lover of truth and of beauty wherever he found it. How many operas and plays did we enjoy together? How many conversations about politics, religion and art? And he was almost always better informed than I was!

All of this takes nothing away from his attachment to his Jewish faith. He loved the liturgy, the traditions…sometimes the superstitions…the connections linking all of our centuries. And he always said of his rabbi, Sharon Kleinbaum, “She has a fire that burns brightly within her.”

Yet, as I said before, Dad valued artistic achievement, spiritual integrity and human kindness wherever he found it. He was a steadfast Jewish humanist all of his life. How could you not admire and love him for his all-encompassing spirit? 

We talked about his funeral. He told me what he wanted. He told me that he had had a wonderful “long walk,” and that it was time to say goodbye. No fear, no anger, just a desire to say goodbye to many friends and family before he slipped away. He expressed gratitude for the time he had to let them know he loved them…us.

I’ll close now. I don’t want to because this really does mean goodbye. But I’ll close with his favorite farewell and blessing.

Zie leben en zeint gezunt!

“You should live and be well!”

Comments

[AC]

May his memory be a blessing to you and the rest of his family.

[Feridun]

Terry,
Apparently a very remarkable man and a good friend/father passed away. I am sending my condolonces to you. I hope he rests in peace.
Feridun

[Fredric Koeppel]

Blessings on you and Ken and all the family. You obviously have great memories of Seymour.

[Terry Hughes]

Gentlemen, thank you so much for your kind words. We are preparing the place to sit Shiva for a couple of days, beginning later this afternoon.

The funeral was beautiful, simple, heart-felt in everyone's expression, not least the rabbis' -- a wonderful woman and dear friend of Seymour's -- and the chapel at Riverside was packed (holds 400). The burial took place in the pine-scented memorial park that Seymour managed for 40 years, until he retired at 79. The weather was perfect -- not a cloud in the sky, warm in the sun, pleasant in the shade, quiet and with a large group of relatives and friends.

We all dug in to fill the grave ourselves, a clever policy of the rabbi's to get some fear and anger out of your body and help to bring closure, such as it is, to the man's death.

Thanks also to the other friends here and abroad who have sent private messages of condolence.

[Fede - Fiordimela]

Condoglianze a Ken e a te. Vi sono vicino, amici cari. Fede

[Richard]

I am so glad I had a special relationship with him from the day I met him. A beautiful man. He was not like a father to me. He WAS a father to me.

Richard

[Federica Bianchi]

Sono appena ritornata da un piccolo viaggio "di sapore" in Francia. Siamo stati alla regione della Champagne assaggiando meravigliosi vini e deliziosi Champagne. Volevo raccomandarvi uno che é assolutamente raffinato. Alla Maison ci hanno accolto veramente bene spiegandoci il prodotto e la sua produzione, si hanno dato la web nella quale si puo capire i tipi di champagne che producono, é propio delizioso!!!
www.veuve-clicquot.com