I have only one memory of my father Z”L’s father who was a Rov, and that is one of sitting on one lap, as my sister sat on the other one, on our couch, which was pushed out of the way because we were getting new carpeting. I could not have been more than three or four years old. My Zaidy O”H was a beautiful man with a long, long white beard (no cracks about this time of year), anda real twinkle in his eyes, and my mother loved her shver very much, especially as she lost her own father when she was 12. my paternal Bubby O”H was very sickly all the days I knew her, and I cannot recall ever being hugged or kissed by her, though I know she was a loving mother and grandmother.
My maternal Bubby O”H lived with us, as I said for the last thirty years of her life in her late 80s. She really took care of us, as my mom worked with my dad for all those years. She truly epitomized the words of Eishes Chayil, and though widowed at a very young age, raised two daughters on her own, never went on Welfare, and was mekabeles kol echad b’sever panim yafos. She had a hard life, but remained positive, happy, and hardworking without complaint. My happiest memories are of her teaching me how to make challah (which she did at dawn every Friday morning). She was also an amazing baalas chessed, who though poor herself, made up food baskets and challah, and before dawn,hand-delivered them to a newly-widowed woman and family in her neighborhood, so she would not be seen. On those days, she took my mother with her to help carry the food. It was a great lesson for my mother to see growing up. I love all my grandparents, but I miss her as much as I miss my parents. And Purim will never be the same for me, because I will always light a yartzeit licht for that day.