My Dad and the Beit Din
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbP_Blnar1So4HwI_egT6jkCMi3GdBE1-hlK26rI7iAld0Bc1EMV0-zrkQmVK2DtDqd4F9Kx4yOedLu03w8kZiGfbnTGXcEbTb3IqHctOGFlPq20CASKCK00lypCx440M71afeswMIZPw3/s640/Me%2526Dad.jpg)
Me and Dad On October 26, what seems now like a lifetime ago, my father passed away. Two days before he left us I was sitting on the edge of his bed engaging in a monologue with the nearly empty shell, which his year long fight with brain cancer had left. The cancer was about to win and I knew it. In a sudden inspiration I asked him something from beneath the layers of muck and iron that I had coated myself with. I asked my father something from my heart; he had been unable to speak or communicate in any way for days, and I didn’t expect an answer from him … I just wanted to ask. I asked my father, simply, if he would be there for me when I passed on to the next world. In hindsight, it seems, this may have been a final attempt to connect with him. Over the years we had been very distant with each other, but I knew that he loved me and that I was very important to him. We didn’t know how to communicate, and it appeared that I had waited and waited until I could be almost sure th