Yoni Kra
My mother was a real character. She was loving, funny, and generous, and would do anything for anyone. She truly had a heart that was too big for her body.
My mother was only 57, but her body functioned as if she were 87. She had her health problems, due to 37 years of diabetes, which over the years slowly ate away at every system in her body. Over the last few years, she had little feeling in her feet, deteriorating vision, vertigo, land sickness, neuropathy, no balance, and blood pressure that was high when lying down, and drop low when she sat up, let alone stood up, often causing her to collapse. But anyone who knows my
mother, knows that for better or worse, she would never let her body
dictate what she could or could not do. Her will and determination could not be restrained. I know...I tried.
She was so full of life. She loved to talk with anyone and everyone,
and she did. She loved to sing, giggle and tell stories. She loved
her friends who were there for her in fun times and hard times. Above
all, she loved family. She was deeply in love with my father, and
would speak about him as if she were still the undergrad with a
schoolgirl crush. She was incredibly close to her parents, Anita and
Leon. She really worshiped them. She brought them to live with her
and my father, fixing up the guestroom into a more accessible suite.
Since Papa passed away, my mother and grandmother have spent every day
together, telling stories, singing old camp songs, giggling, and just
making each other happy. My mother had a second set of parents, as
well - my Bubbie and Zaide Kra, who she adopted as her own, and meant
the world to her. She valued family more than anyone I know. Our
bedtime stories were family stories of our ancestors and their antics
in 19th and 20th century America, from near accidental poisoning of
the town mayor, to mistakenly creating new movie monsters, to drying a
bone collection on the town square. She delved into major genealogical
research and assembled a vast family tree, bringing together long-lost
relatives.
More than anything, she lived for spending time with her children and
especially her grandchildren. Since Abby, Daniel, and I all have moved
to Israel, it has been very hard for her. Having her 5 sabra
grandsons and her little princess (ages ranging from 1 to 7) so far
from her, the focus was always on video calls, singing on the phone,
and planning, preparing, and packing for the next trip. Although she
would try to come with my grandmother once or twice a year, the
check-in lady at the airport was the guard of the gate. Would she
flag down the wheelchaired duo as unfit to fly? Well, my mother could
talk her way past anyone or anything, even the time she made it past
check-in and onto the plane only to be pulled off and sent to the
hospital. She would say that she would get on that plane even if it
killed her. As the herculean effort of getting organized, packing,
pre-ordering medical supplies, buying presents for the grandkids, and
especially the traveling, was so immense, over the past years she
would stretch the trips longer and longer to get the most out of them.
This last trip would have been over two months long. But after that
trek, it would all be worth it. Their apartment in Jerusalem was
truly her palace and she was the queen. It was on ground level, fully
wheelchair accessible, absolutely beautiful, near a lovely shul, and
equally close to both sets of grandkids. She would rent an electric
scooter and on this last trip went all over town running errands,
meeting friends for a meal out, going swimming, and was even able to
attend a much-anticipated wedding. The apartment and scooter helped
restore a sense of independence that she valued so much. This was her
healthiest and most active trip in several years. The scooter's
Shabbat mode allowed her to get to shul regularly, which was so
important to her.
The dedication and perseverance required for her to make the trip to
shul was a lesson for us in its own right. Moreover, I learned from
her that the intensity and intimacy of our relationship with Gd is not
something limited to life cycle events or holidays. She would pour
out her heart and soul in prayer, talking to Gd as if face-to-face
from deep within her. I also learned from my mother how to give. She
was a true paragon of chesed (loving-kindness). Our home had a
constant flow of guests, short-term and long. She would always give
of her time, energy, and resources well beyond what was prudent or
safe.
My mother was extremely sentimental. Our home was a living museum
filled with knickknacks, furniture, and heirlooms from several
generations of family. When my grandparents left Massachusetts, and
again when they left Florida, another moving truck would pull up to
our house with everything she couldn't bear to see given away.
Preparing to clear out and sell the house before their move to Israel
next year would have been very difficult for her emotionally, let
alone physically.
In her last week she called many of her friends and had long
conversations with them. She related how happy she was with how the
trip was going. Towards the end of one conversation she said, "I am
not long for this world." She seemed to have sensed that her health
was degrading at an ever increasing pace.
The concern of the family, my parents' friends, and the whole
community has been overwhelming. From worrying about my father, who
will Gd willing make aliya to Israel by next winter, my Nonnie (Anita
will be living with my Uncle Rick and his daughter Erica and her
family in Chicago.), and even arranging for their dog Murray's care.
We thank all of you so much for all you have done and all you will do.
My mother was a real character. She was loving, funny, and generous, and would do anything for anyone. She truly had a heart that was too big for her body.
My mother was only 57, but her body functioned as if she were 87. She had her health problems, due to 37 years of diabetes, which over the years slowly ate away at every system in her body. Over the last few years, she had little feeling in her feet, deteriorating vision, vertigo, land sickness, neuropathy, no balance, and blood pressure that was high when lying down, and drop low when she sat up, let alone stood up, often causing her to collapse. But anyone who knows my
mother, knows that for better or worse, she would never let her body
dictate what she could or could not do. Her will and determination could not be restrained. I know...I tried.
She was so full of life. She loved to talk with anyone and everyone,
and she did. She loved to sing, giggle and tell stories. She loved
her friends who were there for her in fun times and hard times. Above
all, she loved family. She was deeply in love with my father, and
would speak about him as if she were still the undergrad with a
schoolgirl crush. She was incredibly close to her parents, Anita and
Leon. She really worshiped them. She brought them to live with her
and my father, fixing up the guestroom into a more accessible suite.
Since Papa passed away, my mother and grandmother have spent every day
together, telling stories, singing old camp songs, giggling, and just
making each other happy. My mother had a second set of parents, as
well - my Bubbie and Zaide Kra, who she adopted as her own, and meant
the world to her. She valued family more than anyone I know. Our
bedtime stories were family stories of our ancestors and their antics
in 19th and 20th century America, from near accidental poisoning of
the town mayor, to mistakenly creating new movie monsters, to drying a
bone collection on the town square. She delved into major genealogical
research and assembled a vast family tree, bringing together long-lost
relatives.
More than anything, she lived for spending time with her children and
especially her grandchildren. Since Abby, Daniel, and I all have moved
to Israel, it has been very hard for her. Having her 5 sabra
grandsons and her little princess (ages ranging from 1 to 7) so far
from her, the focus was always on video calls, singing on the phone,
and planning, preparing, and packing for the next trip. Although she
would try to come with my grandmother once or twice a year, the
check-in lady at the airport was the guard of the gate. Would she
flag down the wheelchaired duo as unfit to fly? Well, my mother could
talk her way past anyone or anything, even the time she made it past
check-in and onto the plane only to be pulled off and sent to the
hospital. She would say that she would get on that plane even if it
killed her. As the herculean effort of getting organized, packing,
pre-ordering medical supplies, buying presents for the grandkids, and
especially the traveling, was so immense, over the past years she
would stretch the trips longer and longer to get the most out of them.
This last trip would have been over two months long. But after that
trek, it would all be worth it. Their apartment in Jerusalem was
truly her palace and she was the queen. It was on ground level, fully
wheelchair accessible, absolutely beautiful, near a lovely shul, and
equally close to both sets of grandkids. She would rent an electric
scooter and on this last trip went all over town running errands,
meeting friends for a meal out, going swimming, and was even able to
attend a much-anticipated wedding. The apartment and scooter helped
restore a sense of independence that she valued so much. This was her
healthiest and most active trip in several years. The scooter's
Shabbat mode allowed her to get to shul regularly, which was so
important to her.
The dedication and perseverance required for her to make the trip to
shul was a lesson for us in its own right. Moreover, I learned from
her that the intensity and intimacy of our relationship with Gd is not
something limited to life cycle events or holidays. She would pour
out her heart and soul in prayer, talking to Gd as if face-to-face
from deep within her. I also learned from my mother how to give. She
was a true paragon of chesed (loving-kindness). Our home had a
constant flow of guests, short-term and long. She would always give
of her time, energy, and resources well beyond what was prudent or
safe.
My mother was extremely sentimental. Our home was a living museum
filled with knickknacks, furniture, and heirlooms from several
generations of family. When my grandparents left Massachusetts, and
again when they left Florida, another moving truck would pull up to
our house with everything she couldn't bear to see given away.
Preparing to clear out and sell the house before their move to Israel
next year would have been very difficult for her emotionally, let
alone physically.
In her last week she called many of her friends and had long
conversations with them. She related how happy she was with how the
trip was going. Towards the end of one conversation she said, "I am
not long for this world." She seemed to have sensed that her health
was degrading at an ever increasing pace.
The concern of the family, my parents' friends, and the whole
community has been overwhelming. From worrying about my father, who
will Gd willing make aliya to Israel by next winter, my Nonnie (Anita
will be living with my Uncle Rick and his daughter Erica and her
family in Chicago.), and even arranging for their dog Murray's care.
We thank all of you so much for all you have done and all you will do.