Triumph Over Tears

by Nava Chernoff

  A week before my flight, I received a call from Avi. He asked, “Where are you?” “I am filling the car with gas.” “Are you okay to talk?” Avi was never concerned with what position you were in. He would say anything that was on his mind right away, even if it would embarrass you. I felt that he was going to hit me hard. “Wait,” I said. “Let me go in the car.” I got in, and said, “I am ready, give me the news.” “Moshe had a blood clot and his mobility was affected. From what I understand it has nothing to do with the cancer, just really bad luck.” Avi did not know all the details yet. I told Avi that I was flying to Israel in a week, and wondered if I should change my ticket. When I called Tom, he heard in my trembling voice that something was not quite right. “What is the matter? You do not sound right.” “I am fine but Moshe is not. Can you come home earlier today please?” When Tom arrived home, we debated whether to change the flight. We had scheduled everything. We had changed Shani's practice hours, had a driver—Kelly McDonnell, a dear friend and a neighbor who went out of her way to help—and the school was informed that I would be absent. It turned out to be Mission Impossible to change the flight and inform everyone of the change. That week seemed to be one of the longest weeks I had ever experienced. By the time I visited Moshe in the hospital, he was refusing just about everything, including food and water. I wanted to do reflexology, but he said no. After a while, one of his visiting friends wanted him to drink. He said no, but when the straw was in his mouth, he drank. It was almost as if we read each otherʼs minds. While Miriam went to the nurse and asked for massage cream, I washed my hands and was ready to massage. The cream was cold; I was afraid Moshe would resist it, so I went back to the sink and warmed my hands in running water, and then did reflexology. I massaged Moshe's feet. He looked like he was enjoying it and showed no resistance. I could not have the conversation I wanted. The situation was wrong; talking to him without him being able to respond was not what I had in mind. Moshe looked at me while I massaged his feet. I felt that he knew I had crossed the ocean just for him. I came to say goodbye to a man who was a second father to me.

  On Thursday, the third day of my visit, I said goodbye, knowing my flight was on Friday and I could not be sure I would have time to visit again. I had promised myself before the visit not to cry, to be strong. I believe in miracles and wanted to hold onto positive thoughts. None of it worked. I was strong facing Moshe, but as I hugged Miriam, the tears just came. I never wanted them, but when they arrived, they did not stop for a long time. Instead of me telling Miriam to be strong and positive she told me, “I am happy you visited us. Thank you and be strong.” I could not leave. I told Tom on the phone that I was having a hard time saying goodbye, as I knew I would not see Moshe again after this visit. Tom, with all of his understanding, said, “If you think a few more days will help you, then stay.” How could I stay? It would never be easy—today, tomorrow, or next week. Friday, at noon, I visited Moshe again. Miriam looked at me with surprise. “If I could, I would stay longer,” I told her. “I know,” she replied. I told Moshe, “I am flying back to the United States. I will call home next week and I hope you will answer the phone.” He nodded. “Moshe,” I told him, “I am writing a book and you are a big part of the way I turned out. Can I add a chapter about you and the stables?” This time, he laughed out loud and said, “Yes!” I kissed him, kissed Miriam and with a heavy heart, left the two of them in the room. I promised myself not to cry again next to Miriam like I did on Thursday. When I turned to the elevator, I could not stop the tears from going down my cheeks. Noa picked me up from the hospital. I was a mess with makeup running down my face and bloodshot eyes and exhausted but entirely unable to sleep. We drove back to the kibbutz in silence. Moshe passed away shortly after my visit. He is much missed by his wife, daughters, granddaughters, family, many friends, and me. It was again the time for me to triumph over my tears

  In summer 2009 Shani and I flew to Bulgaria for ten days of summer camp. She applied everything she learned to her future seasons. She made it to regional, and national meets. Some years were set back with injuries such as stress fractures, a broken finger, and foot injury. Shani never gave up and continued to go to practice. When the Dr. gave her the option of a boot instead of a cast, Shani, who usually did not say much to the doctor, responded with “Just fix this fast.” She opted for the boot. I believe that all driven athletes who are injured will continue to practice, to some degree, until healed. But watching Shani practice rhythmic gymnastic for weeks, with a boot, ice packs, and elastic bandage was painful for me. Tom and I admired her determination.

  Almost 18, finally Yarden’s dark cloud started to dissolve, I could see my son again in the fog. There is hope, and he is returning. Tom and Yarden still would walk on eggs shells next to each other, but things got better.

  Summer of 2012, as always, our summer vacation was a cruise. This cruise was taking place in the Mediterranean, Italy, Turkey, Greece, and Israel. I arranged Yarden’s 18th Birthday gift. It took place in Israel. He parachuted for the first time over the Dead Sea and Masada. Tom was scared of height, and could not believe I would let Yarden jump out of a plane. More than anything he did not believe Yarden would do it. During the cruise, on the way to Israel, they finally conversed. It broke the ice. They were both very excited. One could not wait to get up, and the other could not wait for it to be over. Also, I arranged a big family reunion, for everyone, all the way from Eilat to the far north of Nazareth. Of course, the family had not seen Yarden and Shani for a long time. They were impressed by how big and beautiful they became. Yarden was a big help. Although he is not tall or big, he is powerful. He carried the basket for all his “old” aunts and patiently let them “abuse” him. When they got tired, the men picked on him. Tom was watching how Yarden was interacting with the entire family. He swam with the young kids and helped the adults. Tom was very proud that he could finally see that our Yarden was back.

  On our return from the cruise, we stayed a day in Milan, Italy. The boys, Tom and Yarden, went shopping. The girls wanted to add another pin to Shani’s destination map. We took the train to Switzerland. That trip, and specifically that day, was a turning point for Tom and Yarden’s relationship. I believe it was the buildup from the entire cruise. Yarden was well behaved, poised and respectful. They were sitting in the train together and were looking like they were in a deep father and son talk. Little did we knew at the time how vital those healing discussion and camaraderie would be to Yarden in the near future.

  The slide down was faster than the climb up. But we made it. Yarden never went back to school. I homeschooled him through high school. He graduated with 2.70GPA. At that point, my son was almost fully recovered, and I could trust leaving him alone. When he graduated, Yarden received 2 options. The first was to go to college and keep a 2.7 GPA. The second, to join the army. Yarden decided to go to the military and joined the IDF. He loved it. I knew Yarden overcame his terrible teen years when he received, on Israel’s independence day ceremony, an “excellence award for being determined, a good friend and a supporter for his teammates, and positive example throughout the year.” He jumped in ranks to Sergeant. Several excellency certificates followed.

  In 2012 Shani was one of the top Jewish girls in the United States in rhythmic gymnastics. She was invited to participate in screening for the Maccabiah games. When Shani received the letter of acceptance, the entire household, including Yarden, who was usually neutral about rhythmic, and disliked being dragged to his sister’s meets, was so excited. We called everyone on the planet to share Shani’s rhythmic gymnastics success. Shani’s practice hours were not enough to prepare her for international competition. The second semester of 10th grade we spent 30 hours of practice with homeschooling. For seven years, including scheduled vacations, day trips, even just weekend getaways, our lives were planned around Shani’s rhythmic schedule. At the age of 16, the road to the Maccabiah began. Shani practiced all winter preparing for
the summer games. While I was her driver, teacher and coach, I still had to be there for Tom and Yarden. Again, however, Shani would be forced to overcome one of the most significant obstacles in her life.

  Tom would spoil us all, with his love and support. If it were Yarden’s snowboarding equipment, Shani’s rhythmic, summer vacations and any crazy trip I would envision, just like the one we did to Germany and Poland. Most of all he wanted to please me. This is how I ended up with Seanry.

  Tom knew of my love and passion for antique cars. I especially favored Chevrolet Pickup 3100 from the late 40s and early 50s. He could not find one for me to restore. He surprised me with a Volkswagen Super Beetle 1973. It was orange and came on a flatbed. The seller claimed that it is running. Tom’s knowledge about cars was slim to none. I should take it back. He knew high-end vehicles and how to wreck them. But not how to put them together. He certainly had no clue about restoration.

  Tom would speed drive up Middle Rd. He would hit the deer, in the evening, the same location and at the same time. One would think he would learn his lesson after replacing his Benz bumper twice in three weeks. One evening, Arnold, Tom, and I went out for dinner. Tom was the driver, Arnold the passenger and I sat at the back. After dinner, we dropped off Arnold at home. I took my high heeled boots off, lifted up my dress and switched seats with Tom. Tom did it naturally knowing I am going to drive. He walked around the car to the passenger seat. Arnold asked, “What are you doing?” “I only sat in the back out of respect for you. If I am with Tom in the car alone, I am the driver,” I answered. “You should have told me. Since I have known Tom, he drove like a maniac. I would have let you drive.” That was from Tom’s friend of 50 years.

  My Super Beetle was rolled down off the bed. I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself. When he was finally on the driveway, Tom said “Go ahead try it”. Well. It did not start. I named him Seanry, after Sir Thomas Sean Connery, one of my favorite actors. I decided to paint Seanry in black. His interior was planned to be black and white, like a tuxedo suit, classy like Sean Connery. Everything went well at first. I stripped Seanry of everything but the engine. When that was done I inspected him to see if I missed anything. I was very proud of the fact I did not break the windows. I started sanding. I sanded for days. I saw great progress! Tom, not so much. I was so excited when I finally could see the bare grill. I learned that Seanry’s original color was orange, then light teal, and back to orange. That was a lot of sanding. When I called Tom to see the exposed grill, all he could say “Is that all?” My heart sank. I thought it was great progress. I sanded 3 layers of paint. All Tom saw was that the rest of the car was still orange. He hired a handyman to help me. Dan, the handyman, was of great help. We did accomplish stripping Seanry, to the point where he was all metal and shining.

  It was May 2013. Tom was at work, Shani was at practice, Yarden went to see his friend, Scott. I was at home preparing dinner when my phone rang. It was Tom’s business partner. “Tom has severe pain. We think it’s his gallbladder. He is at the UMPC hospital in Cranberry”, he said. I called Yarden, and gave him the news, and added that I was going to pick up Shani from practice early and drive to the hospital. He should come home within an hour. It is unusual for me to pick up Shani in the middle of practice without informing Coach Kamelia ahead of time. When coach saw me, she stopped instructing the girls. She looked at me, and they all turned. I looked at her and Shani and said, “nothing to worry about but I need to take Shani home.” While Shani went to the locker room to gather her equipment I approached the coach and said “Tom is at the UPMC hospital, I need to go there and would not be on time to pick up Shani at the end of practice. They think it’s his gallbladder”.

  By the time I arrived at the hospital I found Tom in the ER bed waiting for the results. I caught up with the situation and waited for the results with him, with the assumption that it is a gallbladder. Much to our surprise when the results arrived, the news was so much worse than expected. Tom was diagnosed with stage four gastric cancer. Tom’s first words were “son of a bitch.” Our painful new journey began.

  This was , only two months before the Opening ceremony, for the Maccabiah games for Shani. Our world crashed. We all had to prioritize our schedules. Tom believed with all his heart, despite the doctor ’s recommendation to be prepared for the worst, that he would heal. Tom made sure that Shani’s schedule would not change because of his appointments, or any treatments that he received. I began to see Shani struggle with rhythmic gymnastics. Her routines that generally looked so beautiful, and were executed to perfection, were not as streaming. We debated whether to cancel her trip and keep her home, not knowing what the future might bring and how we would handle our new challenges. The conclusion was that Shani earned the trip. We had little time for her to get back and focus on the Maccabiah. Shani worked so hard and wanted to let everyone know that she can do it.

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  Pittsburgh Tribune Review

  “Indiana Township gymnast set to compete in Maccabiah Games KAREN KADILAK | Wednesday, March 13, 2013, 9:01 p.m.

  “Indiana Township resident Shani Caplan Chernoff will compete in the 19th Maccabiah games, to be held July 17 to 30 in Israel. Submitted”

  “Shani Caplan Chernoff is working twice as hard as she prepares for her first international competition as a rhythmic gymnast at the 19th Maccabiah Games, to be held July 17 to 30 in Israel.

  Chernoff, 16, of Indiana Township was one of two girls named to an open team that will represent America.

  Leora Feldman of Los Angeles also will compete.

  Held every four years, the Games draw top Jewish athletes from around the world.

  Competitors have included Olympic gymnasts Mitch Gaylord and Kerri Strug.

  In rhythmic gymnastics, athletes perform jumps, leaps and tosses and other moves with different forms of equipment, including hoops, clubs, ribbons and balls. Competitors are judged on coordination, dance ability and grace.

  By adding morning workouts, Chernoff, a veteran of junior competitions, doubled the number of hours she practices to 30 a week.

  A sophomore and former Fox Chapel student, she enrolled in a cyber school to accommodate the expanded schedule.

  Jewart's Gymnastics, where she trains, donated workout space.

  “Expecting her to be nervous, we're having her repeat a lot so everything will be correct, and she will know what to do,” said Kamelia Dunlevy, head coach and program director for Jewart's, noting that Chernoff sometimes spends more than seven hours a day practicing.

  Born in Jerusalem and the daughter of an Israeli immigrant, Chernoff looks forward to competing.

  “I've always dreamt of going to the Olympics,” she said. “This is just as good.”

  A website, www.navachernoff.com/shani, has been set up by her mother to raise funds.

  Nava Chernoff coaches her daughter when Dunlevy is not available.

  Dunlevy admires Shani Chernoff's dedication.

  “(Rhythmic gymnastics) is a demanding sport; you can't take days off,” Dunlevy said. “It's an accomplishment that Shani has done it so long.”

  Possessing great physical flexibility, Shani Chernoff said she was steered into rhythmic while taking gymnastics instruction when she was 9.”

  Karen Kadilak is a freelance writer.”

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  A fantastic daughter I raised. She is a fighter even when nothing is coming easily for her. One challenge after another.

  She returned home after the Maccabiah, back to school and routines. Tom received chemotherapy treatments. He fought with all he could. While Yarden was in the Israeli Army Shani watched her dad fighting and dying. She watched me fighting alongside, supporting Tom in every way possible. She saw her mother become a full-time nurse to her father. She was there when the doctor gave us hope and Tom went under surgery.