Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Special Treat – Cynthia Groopman

December 17, 2007

A Memorium to a Wonderful Loving Mother
By Cynthia L. Groopman


Suddenly, the unexpected sound of a loudly telephone jarred me out of a sound sleep. It was 5:58:A.M. on a cool, crisp November 6, 2004 early morning. Although it was a work day, I was sound asleep and that is unusual for me. I stretched, yawned and reached frantically for the annoying ringing phone. I lifted the phone and put the receiver to my ear. The voice of an Oriental Doctor was on the other end and he was curt and to the point.

His unemotional voice uttered that Mom had passed away. Oh, my heart began to sink and tears came gushing out of my eyes. An era had ended and the blessed most wonderful friend of my life had gone to the great beyond. She had reached her end of days. Oh, how can this be? I thought, as I ran into my brother's apartment, which was next door.

It was June 19, 1913, and in the apartment in East Harlem, known as Jewish Harlem at that time, a baby was being delivered to Rose Rubin. When she found out that it was a girl, she was so happy. My mom, Edith, made her entrance into this big wide wonderful world with a cry and thus began her long journey of 90 years.

Edith was the middle child of an immigrant mother, Rose and a musician dad, who was an American bandsman. Edith was a lively, friendly sparkling child full of fun and joy and she was the queen of her kindergarten class. She was really sweet and all of the elderly immigrant neighbors loved her.

She was the smartest child in her district and passed the Hunter College High School test and subsequently graduated from that school and from Hunter College, She was the only woman in her family to do that at that time.

Mom was a mature young teenager and at age sixteen, she became head of her household, due to the sudden passing of her dad. She cared for her not yet thirteen year old brother, did the cooking and cleaning, since her mom had to go to work in the factory to make a living. Mom was a teacher and then entered the business world after college. She was a head bookkeeper.

AT age 33, she met my dad and in three months time, married. In August of 1948 she had us. She was rushed from the Bungalow in the country in Upstate NY to the hospital in premature labor and she did not know that she was having twins. Gee, she was quite a soldier, suffering so many pains. She took such great care of us fragile ones and she was our fortress of love, shelter and nurturing.

As we grew up, Mom was our mentor, our advice giver and she always had a wise saying for us. She was the best cook and so lively and good to people. She would write letters and read letters to the elderly who could not read. Mom was so cheerful and always told me to never give up and that good things would be there for me.

That attitude prevailed on the night of Feb. 28, 1988 when I lost my eyesight. Then, she aged and fell many times. She was suffering from spinal stenosis and was bedridden for eight years. She was so wise.

She glowed at every achievement that I had and was so proud. We would sing all of the old songs together and I would read all of my poems to her. I would read my Hebrew Scriptures, practice my acceptance speeches and hug her and kiss her forehead.

On October 25, 2004, mom's breathing was irregular and she could not be roused from sleep. I remember riding in the ambulance and crying. I knew that she would not be back again with me in the apartment which we shared since 1950.

Mom spent eleven days in intensive care. I would squeeze her hand every night, play and sing for her and pray at her bedside. Our Rabbi and cantor also were there to encourage and pray for her. She was removed from the respirator and actually spoke to me. I was thrilled.

That night, I had a dream that she was telling me that she was being called by God. When that phone rang, that same morning, I knew it was about her. There were arrangements to be made. The funeral was held on the coldest Sunday in Autumn, the 9th of November. My cousin was sitting near me and consoling me. At the grave side the funeral was held in the presence of the Rabbi, cantor friends and family.

I read a touching poem, My Mother's Hand, and made a spontaneous eulogy. All
hugged me. As I shoveled dirt on the closed coffin, I felt a warm tug. We sat shiva for a week; that is the seven days of mourning for the Jewish people. Friends came to console us. Each week at our Synagogue, we say, the Kaddis which is the memorial prayer.

My mom has visited me in dreams and I made her proud by winning awards. The dedication of her stone was held on July 11th and we were back there again, 9 months later. I read another poem, and another speech followed and tears of joy came pouring out. I knew that she was with the Lord.

The year will be over on the 26 of October, according to the Hebrew year when we light the memorial or Yahrzeit glass for her. That is the eternal candle. Two nights Mom visited me in a dream and squeezed my hand with the same force and love that she did at the hospital.

 I know that she is watching over me and that she is my guardian angel. She has been everything to me in life and as she resides in the House of the Lord, she is my shield,
my shelter and she caresses me gently with the sunshine and I can feel her presence when the stars twinkle.

Cynthia Groopman

cynthia.groopman@verizon.net