Mazel Tov!



Menachem

Meira

Baby Lieberman



I believe my latest posts have been a little on the morbid side. I mean, come on, "I see dead people?" Twice, yet?? Isn't that a bit much? Well, today was a special day. Feige gave birth to a healthy 8.5 lb. bouncing baby boy.  On Babby & Zeidie's (L"HBCL"C) anniversary.  On Veterans' Day. And while I have every intention of getting spiritual and philosophical once again as I've been wont to do lately, this time it will be in a positive, lighthearted vein. I'm even gonna refrain from making any "vein" jokes, even though I'm sure I could think of a few. For months I've been telling anyone who'll listen that two things got me through my darkest hours in the ICU and beyond: I wanted to be at Menachem's Bar Mitzvah and I wanted to meet Meira in person. I firmly believe that those two goals were the psychological glue that kept me from falling apart. More than once. Well, I held my fifth grandchild today and it was just delicious. So I got to thinking: why did I have only two goals? I should have had oodles! See Menachem get married. And Avi. And Ester. And Meira. And little whatshisname. Why not? How about watching my grandchildren raise their children? At least the ones that aren't named Y'rachmiel Shraga Feivel (who would do that to a kid?!). Am I asking too much? Do I dare think about seeing my great-grandchildren under the chuppah? You know what? I'll leave it up to the Boss. I'll try to be good and see what happens. I'll reiterate a point I've made several times: I try and remember to thank G-d for every new day, for every new lungful of oxygen, for every step I take. I'll let you in on a little secret: I haven't felt 100% okay since I got sick. Not once. Sometimes that gets me angry and sometimes I get the blues. A day like today, a day when I can hold a tiny, sleeping miracle in my arms, reminds me that sweating the small stuff is simply a waste of energy. It's all good, dear readers...it's all good.