Wednesday, December 15, 2021
Last Hanukkah I bought grandma Nevet a pack of Yiddish word magnets for her fridge. I expected her to like them, sure, but they delighted her so much that she couldn't stop pointing at words and sharing her relationship with them. Sarah told me that when they visited her at the hospital she even requested that they were brought to her to arrange and reminisce about.
That same visit, while running errands, we were dropping off some packages at USPS during the peak holiday season. The postal worker shared that she'd work 60 hours that week and was dealing with some really nasty customers. I don't remember exactly what happened, but grandma Nevet started cracking jokes and relating with her so much that she was on her knees cackling by the end of our interaction. We held up a whole line of grumpy customers but the last thing the postal worker did was turn to me and say "I love grandma, grandma rocks."
That happened all the time.
On the flip side, Grandma Nevet was extremely passionate and wasn't afraid to speak her mind. She was a tremendous example of someone who could be so delightful and agreeable and still steadfast in her values. I did see her snap a few times, but that reinforced my commitment to our shared values and I appreciate that so much.
These magnets gave me an opportunity to connect with my grandma unlike ever before. I remember that visit so vividly because she showed me books from her childhood, taught me how to sing Yiddish folk songs, and gave me a taste of the humor embedded in so many of those fridge magnets. She was constantly eager to spread joy and I never wanted to leave her house when I was there. Even when I visited her during her last days at the hospital, she was so thrilled to read the silly cards I brought her and talk about art that I remember spending the whole day in that room not wanting to leave. Even in silence she was such a delight to be around.
Grandma Nevet shaped who I am—through a passion for creating and a lighthearted humor that permeated her every interaction. She also gave me my curly hair, and I know her spirit is embodied by all of the family that she's survived by. I can't really imagine a life without her because it always felt like she'd live forever, but in some ways I really think she will. We're all so lucky to have had her.
