I Miss You, Raymond!

Since coming to Luzern, or actually in my whole life, I have never had such a Rosh Hashana experience as this year.  I can share with you many inspirational feelings and moments, which I had over the course of the holiday. There was the elderly woman, a holocaust survivor, who had heard the Shofar the last time in Budapest close to 70 years ago, and this year she decided for the first time to follow my wife’s invitation and come to listen to the sound of the Shofar once again. Then there was another Jew, who for the first time in his life, held a Torah Scroll in his hands. Of course, the bare fact that about 150 Jews passed through our doors during the holiday, is inspirational on its own.

However, what will cause me never to forget this Rosh Hashana, is a very tough, personal experience which I went through on the 14th floor of the Luzern Kantonsspital, on the second day of Rosh Hashana.

In the late afternoon hours of the second day of Rosh Hashana, I was on my way, by foot, together with Chazan Eli, to visit my dear friend Raymond Jones who was lying in the hospital, on the 14th floor, in critical condition.

When I walked in, I passed by the information desk, and asked the man sitting there, where are the stairs? He looked at me, pointed to the left and said: “The elevator is there.” I ask if it is possible to use the stairs. Since it was late, I preferred to skip the whole explanation about not being allowed to use an elevator on the holiday. He smiles at me: “We need more ‘green’ people like you. The door opposite the elevator will lead you to the staircase…”.

Ten minutes later… we arrive, breathing heavily, to the 14th floor and I immediately turn to room 1482. Just before I enter,  I see a nurse and decide to ask her first how Raymond was doing.

From the look on her face I already understood everything.

She goes on to tell me with a clear and strong voice the bitter news - Raymond passed away this morning at 5.

Eventhough it was not a complete shock for me, I feel like a five-kilo hammer was banging on my heart.

Raymond is gone.

I feel the need to go into the room where I last saw him lying, but the nurse tells me the room is already occupied by someone else.

So I ask her for permission to simply stand at the door for a few minutes. She agrees. I sstand in front of the door, close my eyes and review in my mind, my last goodbye from him, this past Motzaei Shabbat.

I came to visit him just after Shabbat was over. I’m not a doctor, but when I arrived there I understood that the situation was not good at all. And I felt the need to do what I knew Reuven would want me to do.

He was lying in his bed, barely conscious, not connecting to his surroundings. Next to his bed was his friend, Susanne Borek.

I went up to him, shook his hand and said:”Reuven, Shavua tov!” (Raymond always liked me to call him by his Hebrew name). He opened his left eye completely and said “Chaim!”  That’s all I needed.

I opened the siddur, while still holding his hand and said with him, word by word, “Shema Yisrael A-donay E-lohenu A-donay echad” and he repeated word for word. I continued to say the text of the ‘viduy’ (confession)…

When I finished off with the song, which he so loved- ‘Adon Olam’, I saw a smile on his face.

After he told me “Thank You” clearly, only to go back unconscious, I broke down and my tears just kept coming.

This past Wednesday afternoon, when I stood in front of the coffin at the Levaye (funeral) I said the following words:

Reuven,

I remember like today, the first time we met ten years ago at the Chanuka Party in Luzern. I remember the eternal smile on your face.

I’ll tell you the truth, in the beginning of our relationship I was sure that because of the ‘tzores’ and problems you went through, you might have lost a bit of your sanity. How can a person be alone without a partner, without children, and all this with a body which is half paralyzed and almost completely blind!!??

Therefore I decided that I must help you. And so, almost every Wednesday we would meet either at your home, or at the Chabad Center in Zug, for a Torah class, a cup of coffee and to put on the Tefillin. In the beginning I came with all my best intentions to help and to give you of my time. However, very soon, I learned that it is you who is giving me of his time no less, and maybe even much more…

In our meetings I realized that you are much more sane than many other people who have many things in their lives, which you have not merited to have. And I wanted to learn from you how you did it?

True, I only got to know you in the last ten of your 63 years, but I learned so much from you.

I learned from you how to strongly believe in G-d. I learned from you to be truly happy with life.

When you asked me to buy you Tefillin about 5 years ago, and then every time we met thereafter, when I saw you putting them on and davening (praying), I learned another important thing from you – praying with Kavana (true intention), out of sincere belief that G-d is listening to every word which you are saying to Him.

It is no wonder that people loved to simply be around you. Your warmth, happiness, wisdom and belief together with your unbelievable memory, gave everyone a desire to socialize with you again and again.

Even though you had all the reasons in the world to think only about yourself, you never stopped helping and worrying about others.

If we needed a tenth for the Minyan, you were there immediately. If we needed a good electrician to fix something, you right away found me someone. Whenever or whatever you only could, you were there to help.

Before every Jewish holiday, you sent us flowers, and at every family Simcha, you celebrated with us like a family member.

Reuven, you always used to tell me:”I might be alone, but I’m not lonely, because I have good friends”. It’s a pity you cannot see all your friends who have gathered here together and miss you so.

With G-d’s help, I promise you, we will find a way to eternize your name!

I’m asking you, in the name of all of us, if ever we have hurt you or not treated you with the proper respect, please forgive us.

Indeed, you did not leave any children who could say Kaddish, but I have organized for someone to say Kaddish for you every day in the first year, as well as each year on your Yahrtzeit, which we will never forget – the second day of Rosh Hashana.

Shabbat Shalom!

Raymond Jones – his Jewish name: Reuven ben Gedalya and Leah haKohen
was born in the year 1948