Kathleen also pulled out a framed picture, the one of Chana and Mickey together, taken the morning before her stroke. Kathleen put her hand over her mouth. Unable to speak, she passed the photo to Leah. Kathleen pulled another framed picture of the small family together—Uri, Chana, and Mickey. Uri remembered how Chana insisted that Devorah take their photo. It was as if she knew there would be no time to take more. For one brief second in time, they were a happy family.
As Kathleen passed the locks of hair and photos to Mike and Leah, they cried as they touched each item. Uri realized he was attending Chana’s second funeral. Her family never saw or touched her lifeless body. They didn’t shovel dirt onto her grave. What they were seeing now—the locks of her beautiful hair and the still shots of her glowing expression as she held her daughter—provided them with some sense of closure. As the family mourned, Uri took Mickey from Leah’s arms, so that Kathleen, Mike, and Leah could embrace as they mourned their beloved Hannah.
Holding tightly to Mickey, Uri looked around the house and imagined a much younger Chana getting a snack from the kitchen, relaxing on the couch to watch her favorite television show, or sneaking in the front door past her curfew, which she told him she did many times before she met him. While it was painful to imagine, it was also comforting. Existing in the same space where Chana existed allowed Uri to feel closer to her, as if he was somehow crossing a threshold of space and time. He felt her DNA was in the walls of the old house. Her atoms still part of furniture and the tired floorboards.
As the grieving continued, Uri walked to the bathroom and returned with a box of tissues for the family. When the crying stopped, the Hagen’s sighed, wiping their eyes and runny noses. Holding the items in her lap, Kathleen thanked Uri. Mike and Leah appeared too sorrowful to speak.
“Before I forget,” said Kathleen. “There’s something that came for you.” She walked to the kitchen and returned with a letter. The return address was listed as the South Dakota State Penitentiary. It was addressed in sloppy handwriting to Uri in care of the Hagen’s address. Clueless of who sent the letter, Uri opened it cautiously, as if he expected to find some sort of hazardous substance. Instead he found a piece of yellow tablet paper folded in three parts. He opened the paper to find a handwritten letter dated two weeks after Chana’s death.
Dear Uri,
My mom sent me a copy of Hannah’s obituary. I was shocked when I read it. I never knew her very well and I wasn’t very nice to her, but she was so full of energy. She seemed like someone who would live forever. Her death just doesn’t seem real to me, sort of like the day that Princess Diana died. Anyway, I want you to know that even though I was an asshole to her most of the time, I always had sort of a crush of Hannah. She was so different from all the other girls. I am really sorry she died.
As you probably saw from the return address, I haven’t made the best choices since high school. I have a few more months before I’m up for parole. Drug charges. I was in a bad place and made a lot of mistakes. I’m lucky I don’t have to do more time. My fiancée is pregnant and due next month. We’re having a boy. I will miss his birth, but that’s my fault. I’ve been sober now for almost a year and I’m doing it for him. I’m going to raise him to be a good man.
I also want to say I am sorry for being such a jerk to you in school. I never cared that you were Jewish. I don’t know why I said all those things. And no hard feelings about my broken nose. I deserved it. Anyway, I just want you to know that Hannah was an awesome person and you were lucky to have her. The world was a better place with her in it. I’ll be praying for your family.
Thanks for reading this,
Greg Moorehouse
“Who is it from?” Kathleen asked.
“The school’s worst bully. Chana was one of the few people who stood up to him. He wrote me a condolence letter. Apparently, he had a crush on Chana.”
“I think everyone had a crush on Hannah,” said Faith. “That’s just who Hannah was.”
The family sat in silence for a while longer. Soon baby Mickey began to coo.
“I think she wants more attention,” said Leah. “When Hannah was little, she loved being the center of attention. It drove me crazy. She was always interrupting me when I had friends over, wanting to be part of the group. I think you may have your hands full with this one, Uri.”
“Chana was the boldest person I’ve ever met. I hope Mickey will inherit that from her.” Uri said, handing a squirming Michaela back to her aunt.
“Mike and I planned to grill some burgers tonight,” Kathleen said. “I assume you want yours without cheese?” she asked Uri.
Stubborn in his grief, Uri continued to rebel against the faith that he believed brought Chana to her death. Something about the thought of eating a cheeseburger in Chana’s childhood home made him feel empowered—like he had some control over HaShem—some control over his pain.
“Actually, a cheeseburger sounds good,” he told Kathleen. As she and Mike moved about the kitchen, Uri stared blankly at the framed photo of his wife and daughter. He wanted to crawl into the picture and go back to that day. Instead, he prepared to eat a non-kosher meal in his dead wife’s house.
49
What do you mean you’re no longer religious?” Daniel Baker asked Uri as they shared lunch on a Saturday afternoon. Faith was there as well; the two recently became engaged. Holding a sleeping Mickey over her shoulder, Faith’s engagement ring sparkled in the sun.
“I mean I’m not being observant right now,” Uri responded curtly to Daniel.
“Isn’t your family flipping out? What about the baby, are you going to raise her as observant?” Daniel pressed him.
“Honestly, we’ve been in such a shock since Chana’s death and my screw up in the military. Between that and moving back to the States, I don’t think my family has had much time to notice.”
“But what about Mickey? Your family is going to insist that she be raised Orthodox,” Daniel stated the obvious.
Uri was quiet for a moment as he looked at a teary-eyed Faith. She was Chana’s best friend since they were ten years old. She planned to ask Chana to be the maid of honor at her wedding. Uri was so deep in his own grief that he hadn’t given thought to how much Chana’s death affected other people.
“Mickey will be raised observant,” Uri finally responded. “I made a promise to Chana. I won’t break it.”
“Don’t you think it will be confusing to her if all her relatives are practicing Shabbat and you’re not? Or when they go to the shul, you’ll stay at home?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead, okay? She’s not even two months old yet. When that day comes, I’ll deal with it. But right now, I can’t observe the rules of a faith that took my wife away from me.” Uri spoke in a sharp tone to his friend, which he immediately regretted.
“Wait a minute,” said Faith. “You think Judaism took Hannah away from you? It was your Jewishness that attracted Hannah to you. She was obsessed with it. She wanted to learn more and more.”
“What are you saying, Chana only loved me because I’m Jewish?” Uri asked accusingly.
“Of course not,” Faith replied, gently shifting baby Mickey to her other shoulder. “But she was drawn to you because she saw the beauty in your faith. Judaism made Hannah a better person. Hannah was far from perfect when she met you. She was impulsive and impatient and totally overbearing at times. But she was also incredibly passionate and curious about the world. And she had such a heart for people.
“That’s why she stayed with Will for as long as she did. She relied on herself too much. She felt like she had to be the fixer of the world’s problems. And she had such a chaotic life with her dad being sick all the time.”
Uri looked down at his non-kosher food. He played with it like a child, moving it in circles on his plate. He hadn’t really been hungry since Chana died. Meals no longer brought him pleasure. Even food tasted different when Chana left.
“I think Judaism offered Chana a sense of order,” Fait
h continued speaking, despite Uri’s indifference. “It made everything fall in place for her. You came along and showed her that there was a God that loved her. A God that takes charge so Hannah could let go of some of her burdens.”
“Was God in charge the day I killed a terrorist?” Uri replied angrily. “Was God in charge the day that the terrorist’s son blew himself up? Was he in charge the night that Chana had her stroke? A massive hemorrhage that left her brain dead? Because if he was, I don’t want anything to do with that God.”
“Come on, Uri, you know God gives us free will,” Daniel replied. “You can’t control what other people do. You can only control the way you react to their actions.”
“Did you read that on a poster in a guidance counselor’s office or something?” Uri asked, unimpressed.
“Yes, I did. In Mrs. Larson’s office my senior year.” Daniel answered proudly, unashamed of his unsolicited advice.
“Can we not talk about this now,” Uri said. “My faith and my doubts aren’t your business anyway.”
Daniel stared at Uri for a moment before popping some fries in his mouth. “Ok. Fair enough,” he said. “Are you up for a walk with Faith and me after lunch?”
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Uri walked with Daniel and Faith through the historic downtown area. Faith pushed Mickey in her stroller, relishing every moment. Though it had been a few years, Uri began to recognize where they were going. They passed the old movie theatre where Uri and Chana were supposed to have had their first date. A few blocks away was Art Alley.
“Are we going where I think we’re going?” Uri asked. “Because if we are, I can’t. I can’t bring myself back there.”
“There’s something we think you should see,” Faith said. “I promise it will be worth it.”
A few minutes later they were in the alley. It changed a lot since Uri was there; new murals covered the bricks. Uri choked back tears as flashbacks rushed through his mind. He pictured himself pressed up against Chana on that chilly autumn night, gently kissing her as she ran her fingers through his hair.
They continued to walk until they reached the amateur artists’ area. Uri remembered picking up spray paint cans there years ago.
“Ok, we’re almost there,” Faith said. “Close your eyes.”
“Seriously?” Uri objected.
“Just do it!” Daniel ordered him, leading him a few more feet down the alley.
“Okay, you can open them now.”
It took a moment for Uri’s eyes to adjust to what he was seeing. In front of him was a magnificent mural of Chana. She looked as she did in high school. She wore a denim jacket, with cropped, chin level hair, just as she wore it years ago. The artist used a piercing turquoise to fill in her eyes. Attached to her back was a set of beautiful, golden white angel wings. Just above her shoulders hung dangling, silver earrings, like the pair she wore years earlier.
“Who did this?” Uri asked, stunned.
“We don’t know. Usually the artists sign their work, but this person didn’t,” said Faith.
“And do you see what’s below?” Daniel asked him.
Uri moved closer to the wall. There, at the bottom of the mural were the Hebrew words he had spray-painted in 1996. The letters were faded, but still visible.
“Almost everything gets painted over in this part. But not that. And whoever painted the mural knew to do it above your Hebrew,” Daniel said.
“How do you that’s my Hebrew?” Uri asked.
“Come on, Uri. I may have been born yesterday but I wasn’t born last night.”
“This is...amazing. I wish I knew who painted it,” Uri said, mesmerized by the image in front of him.
“Does it matter?” Faith asked. “Hannah was so loved. Someone who knew her left this as a gift for us. For everyone who loved her.”
Uri walked closer to the wall and touched Chana’s painted, rose colored cheeks, her full, lovely lips.
“Do either of you have a camera?” he asked.
“Sure thing,” Faith responded. “Let’s get some pictures.”
She snapped pictures of the mural itself, with Uri standing in front of it, and with Uri holding Mickey. Uri took a photo of Faith standing next to it, and they managed to convince Daniel to stand next to Faith in the last picture.
“Does Chana’s family know about this?” Uri asked.
“Not yet. We just saw it yesterday for the first time. You’ll have to bring them here,” Faith suggested.
“Absolutely, I will,” Uri replied.
As Uri held Mickey over his shoulder, preparing to place her in her stroller, the baby girl lifted her tiny head, as if she were trying to get a peek at her radiant mother. Her tiny blue eyes widened, and her little lips opened into a wide mouthed smile.
“She’s smiling at Hannah!” Faith said. “Look at how strong she is, lifting that head of hers.”
Uri turned around, astonished by what he saw. The sun’s reflection from a tin roof across the alley fell perfectly onto Chana’s image, illuminating it completely, like a stage light cast upon a soloist. The group turned quiet. Only the sounds of chirping birds and Mickey’s soft coos filled the air. A cool, gentle breeze blew past them, ruffling the tiny strands of Mickey’s hair.
For the first time since her death, Uri felt Chana’s presence. As he looked at the intricate mural, his mind flashed back the bigger-than-life Chana, not the Chana attached to a life support machine. He remembered their conversations over the years; the euphoric times when they laid in bed and talked for hours, memorizing the pattern of the ceiling above them. He remembered Chana’s adamance that Mickey be raised observant.
As he thought of her words to him, the peace of HaShem flooded his heart. He thought of the words of the prophets, feeling comforted in knowing that someday, when Uri was dead and buried, he and Chana would be raised and made whole again—together.
There in the alley, the place where he and Chana first confessed their love for each other, Uri felt healing. His anger with HaShem lessening; he began to feel gratitude. He was grateful that his father decided on a whim to take an interim position in this small city. He was grateful he had decided to come along, forgoing the option to stay with his friend Yonah.
He was grateful to HaShem for breathing life into Chana when she was born into the world and when she became a Jew. And he was grateful for the miracle he held over his shoulder. As Mickey peered at the mural, Uri knew what both HaShem and Chana asked of him.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah Uri?”
“Do you have a kippah at home that I can borrow?”
Daniel smiled. “I’ve got you covered, no pun intended.”
The group stayed in the alley for a while, none of them wanting to let go of the peace they felt within the old, colorfully painted brick walls.
“Thank you, guys, for bringing me here,” Uri said. “You are wonderful friends.”
Uri handed Mickey to Faith. He looked at Daniel and began to pray the Shema. Soon Daniel joined him. Faith gently rocked Mickey to the rhythm of the prayer.
50
Three weeks passed when Uri and Mickey returned to Uri’s childhood home in Bala Cynwyd. Curious to see Mickey, many neighbors stopped by to offer condolences and comment on Mickey’s strong resemblance to Chana.
One morning after breakfast, Uri and Mickey took a walk down the block to visit Mrs. Blum. She greeted them with tears.
“Chana and I owe a lot to you,” Uri told her. “Chana would have loved to be the one to tell you this—" he paused, holding back his own tears. “Mickey’s full name is Michaela Ruth Geller.”
“Ruth?” Mrs. Blum repeated.
“Yes, after you,” he said. “You were so good to Chana when she was homesick, and you’ve always been good to me. I’ve often thought of you as another Bubbe.”
Mrs. Blum pulled a handkerchief from her apron and wiped her eyes.
“I am honored. I only wish Chana could be with us.”
“I do, too,” Uri
said.
“Ah, but I do have something I think you should have. I found it when I was cleaning out her room after she left. It was on Avigail’s old bookshelf. Chana must have forgotten it.”
Uri waited as Mrs. Blum walked to the den and returned with a book. He shook his head and smiled as she handed him Chana’s old copy of It’s a Mitzvah! Step by Step to Jewish Living. A large coffee spot stained the tattered cover.
“Thank you, Mrs. Blum,” Uri said. “This brings back some good memories.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” she said. “Will I see on you Shabbat?”
“You will see both of us,” Uri assured her.
As he left the house, he touched the Mezuzah and his lips, and placed Mickey in her stroller. Pausing on the stoop, he thumbed through Chana’s old book, letting it rest on the first page. His face fell into the gap-toothed grin that Chana so adored. Over and over on the page Chana wrote the following words:
Hannah Rose Geller
Hannah Rose Geller
Hannah Rose Geller.
Above the words she wrote the following date: October 28, 1996. Uri realized she wrote the words not long after they became partners in their chemistry lab. Chana Rose Geller, he thought to himself, staring at his small daughter in her stroller. Fortune teller extraordinaire.
WHEN MICKEY WAS FIVE months old, Avi returned home from the hospital early one evening. He asked Devorah if she wouldn’t mind keeping an eye on Mickey for the evening so he and his son could enjoy a dinner out.
“We can take Mickey with us, it’s no problem,” Uri protested.
“My son, you haven’t left that sweet child since you’ve returned home. She will be fine with her Bubbe. Besides, you deserve a break.” Avi spoke in a tone that let Uri know he didn’t have a choice in the matter.
They went to Zagafen’s for pizza and salad. Uri admitted to himself that it felt good to spend some time alone without the baby, despite his guilt. In the months since she was born, Uri was hyper vigilant that nothing happened to the child. He was obsessed with checking her temperature and watching her as she slept. Now, alone with his father, he felt he could let his guard down.
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