Thursday, March 31, 2011

My Gabbi was named for my Zaidy Dave- one of my favourite people in the whole world.  When my mom remarried never for one minute did he make me feel like any less that a full member of the Mechanic family.  I used to look forward to his visits, to playing chess and cards and even doing puzzles.  His death was the first time I felt a real loss in my life that was not filled by anything else.

Zaidy Dave affected everything he touched.  If it was a machine he made it better.  A person, he made them smarter.  And idea, he made it bigger.  No Jewish community in Windsor?  Build one!  No taxis?  Find some.  Things just rippled out from him like a pebble tossed into a calm pond.

More than anything in the world Zaidy Dave loved to be on the water.  Big boats, small boats, fishing boats- it didn’t matter he loved them all.  At the end of his life it seemed only fitting that even his tombstone bore the symbol of his life, a row of waves, across the bottom.

My Gabbi’s middle name is for Zaidy Dave.  Galit means waves and could there be any more fitting a tribute for a man who spent so much of his life causing ripples that affected everyone around him?

Sometimes, when I am in a daydreaming mood, I picture the two of them on Zaidy Dave’s Boat, the Lechaim, sailing off onto some adventure beyond the clouds with him as the captain and her as the tiny first mate in a pint sized purple life jacket he used to keep on board for my sister.

I miss you Zaidy Dave, and I miss you my Gabbi.  And I hope the two of you have adventures together that he rest of us can only dream of.

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