I don’t remember how it started, but I was in fourth grade. Visiting family in the hospital was not a new experience for me, I was accustomed to my grandfather’s frequent medical emergencies. But this time was different. This time, my aunt from New Jersey stayed in Baltimore for a month. This time, the doctors sent Zayde home with a fancy bed, a walker, and a rabbi. Nearly every day after school for a week, I went to Bubbie and Zayde’s house and ate a lot of Chinese food for dinner. On Friday, I said goodnight to Zayde and kissed him on his pale forehead and went home with my father and sister while my mom stayed back. On Saturday evening, we got the call. I remember crying, because that is what you’re supposed to do when your grandfather dies.
In traditional Jewish fashion, the memorial was held the next day, and the family got to ride in limousines to the funeral home like celebrities. Zayde even got a special star on his stone for surviving the war. After the burial, there was a reception back at the house to honor him.
“I don’t want to go!” I pouted.
“Come on, its for Zayde.” My dad responded.
“What am I supposed to do?” I grumbled.
“Well, you can ask people to share memories about Zayde,” he responded gently. Hundreds of people packed into my grandparents tiny house. I had to elbow my way through the crowds to find my mother, who I’d barely seen all day.
“Can you tell me a story about Zayde?” I ask. She shakes her head. I don’t understand, I’m doing what I’m supposed to do!
“But why?”
“Someday, you’ll feel what its like to lose a parent.” That’s when I decided I was done grieving. I was allowed to skip school on Monday, but on Tuesday, I returned. After practicing long division, Mrs. Lee wrote our upcoming homework on the board.
“Remember, your famous Marylander project is due tomorrow.” Oh no. How could I forget? Everyone in fourth grade had to research a famous Marylander and replicate their figure with a two-liter bottle for the body and a ball of styrofoam as the head. I selected Thurgood Marshall two weeks ago, but I’d completely forgotten about the project!
After school, my mom picked me up. We were supposed to sit shiva, but we had to make a pit stop at Michael’s (to my mother’s chagrin) to buy art supplies. I gathered my legion of cousins, and we got to work. First, we fished an empty bottle out of the recycling and attached the styrofoam ball to the top. Then we painted it brown and fashioned Thurgood’s features out of model magic. While we waited for his face to dry, my grandmother sent us to cover all the mirrors with cloth. We used the leftover fabric to create Thurgood’s judicial robe.
The project was almost complete, we just needed a pair of scissors to cut Thurgood’s hair. I walk down the hallway to locate the scissors when I see my aunt, leaning against the wall, loud, gasping sobs radiating through her body. Suddenly, I remember why my cousins are in town, why all these strangers keep coming in to bring us food, why all my friends at school are being so nice to me. My face gets hot and red, and tears roll down my cheeks as I realize that I am no longer standing in my grandparents’ house. Everyone said it was the best Thurgood Marshall they’d ever seen, but it didn’t matter, Zayde was gone forever.
