Grandfathers

Today would be my grandfather Cohen’s 91st birthday. He died 15 years ago after a battle with prostate cancer. (Ironically, he was buried on his 76th birthday.)

We called him “Za” because my sister couldn’t say “Zaydie” (the Yiddish word for grandfather) when she was little. So, Za stuck. (His real name was Nathan.)

And I adored him. I always felt that we had a very special connection. When he was nearing the end of his life, I went home from college regularly to see him. The last time I saw him, he said to me, “Jill, I‘m dying.” And I said, “I know, Za. It’s going to be okay. I love you.” I left him that day knowing that I’d probably never see him alive again, but feeling like it was the best thing for him to pass away—that he needed that peace.

Za was the kind of grandfather that every little girl should have. Yes, indeed, I had him wrapped around my little finger. And I think he liked it that way. I only have the happiest of memories when I think of him. He and my grandmother were married for more than 50 years, and they held hands often. I loved that. I’m not sure if he was the greatest father, but I do know that he was a terrific grandfather.

My other grandfather, Jerry Salkin, died in 1959, when my mom was 17. I never got to meet him, but I feel like I know a lot about him from my mother and grandmother. He and my grandmother, Bubby, had a relatively short but very loving relationship. I pray that people are reunited in heaven, for my Bubby has been waiting a long time for that.

Before I got pregnant, I had two very vivid visions. Za was in both of them, and my grandfather Salkin was in one of them. In the second one, Za handed me my baby. I swear it. It was a totally magical vision, one that I had while at the acupuncturist’s office, trying to relax during one of the treatments. I had been feeling down about going through another in-vitro procedure, especially after the first one hadn’t worked. This vision gave me the energy to try again and believe that it could work. I held onto that vision while giving myself hormone injections, while undergoing procedures, and riding to the doctor’s office. That vision was with me at night when I was trying to quiet my mind and in the morning when I was looking for the strength to think positively.

Both visions confirmed what I had always felt—that my grandfathers had been watching over me. Ironically enough, when we went through this recent (successful!) in-vitro attempt, the embryos were placed inside of me on December 4—the anniversary of my grandfather Salkin’s death. I just don’t think it was a coincidence.

Anyway, happy birthday, Za. And thanks to you and Grandpa Jerry for keeping an eye on us.