Worst week

Two weeks ago was the hardest week of my life.
I was expecting it to be tough with exams, but I wasn't expecting anything like this...

I've been having trouble with my SIM card in my phone; for some reason I couldn't take calls from overseas. When I woke up on Monday morning and turned on my cell phone, I had 15 messages waiting, but because they were from overseas I couldn't hear them. There was one from my sister in Germany telling me that I have to call home immediately. I tried getting onto skype, but couldn't, so decided I'd deal with it later and got ready to go to my Strategic management exam.

Then right before I was about to turn off my phone and go to the exam- my sister called me. She broke the news- my father had a heart attack the day before and died.

My father was a young man. He was 62. He was fit- he ran a number of times a week. He ate very healthy, he took Ezetrol and Lipitor to control his cholesterol levels. This was the last thing I was expecting. So I cried for about 10 minutes- then booked a flight to London and then to Toronto. The flight to Shanghai was 10 hours, this one was only 7; but it felt like the longest plane ride of my life.

I got in at 830 Toronto time- which was about 130 am in my jet lagged brain, and three of siblings, my mother, my step mother and my uncle were there. We were all still in shock and crying.

Tuesday we finally figured out where he was going to buried. That was a horrible experience because there was contention on where (for various reasons I won't get into). But we finally agreed to bury him in a Jewish cemetery near his family. 4 rows up from his father. 5 rows up from his grandmother. My eldest sister arrived that evening with her husband son and daughter.

Wednesday we viewed the body. That was heart wrenching- but cathartic. He was in a Jewish burial shroud- and he looked peaceful. Peaceful like when he fell asleep watching a movie with me. He was pale and his eyelids were crimson. He had his trademark salt and pepper mustache but it just didn't look like my father- until we pulled the shroud back so we could see his hair... Yep- it was the old man alright (old man was my nick name for him).

Thursday was the funeral. In the cemetery during the burial there it was cold and raining really hard. I got soaked, but I just didn't care. We lowered him into the ground- I said the Kaddish. The sounds of the clumps of muddy dirt we threw on the pine casket was deafening and heart breaking. The rabbi warned us it would be one of the most difficult sounds we'll ever hear- Man- She was right on that one.

The condolence calls (shiva) at the house afterwards was very nice. We had it catered by my father's favorite food boutiques. I was still soaked and I still didn't care. It was so nice that the house was packed with his friends and family. People from his running group, colleagues, and fellow members of his yacht club.

Friday we had more condolence calls. Cards, flowers, and phone calls continued to pour in. I got myself into the zone- shut my grief down with all my might and went to a job interview (which went well). I also went to shul for kabbalat shabbat and said kaddish. I sat at the back until Lecha Dodi, and then was officially greeted back into the congregation. That was very moving, but cathartic.

Saturday- the cards, flowers and phone calls started to taper off. We had far fewer visitors, and all my family started the grieving process on our own.

They've been such a great support to me. I really am glad and feel so blessed that I have them to help me, and I'm glad I can try to support them too.

I was the first one to leave. I left last Thursday evening to return to Ireland to write my exam in Corporate Finance. I feel guilty about leaving, but I also know that there is no feelings of abandonment from my sisters, my mother, or my mother in law.
I think I nailed my exam though. Old man would be proud.

Rest in Peace Old man.