Matzevah

The unveiling ceremony was held on October 13, 2013 at 11:00 a.m., a brisk, but sunny, Saturday morning. It was the time of year when the leaves were changing colours and it reminded me of how much our Dad loved the aesthetic beauty of autumn, driving up to Petit Lac Long with his sweetheart Vera next to him and looking forward to relaxing in his home away from home. He loved driving and especially "up north" in the Fall, with the leaves across the Laurentian mountains changing colours. So, it was a perfect day to honour him.

The task of how precisely to honour him -- what stone to choose, what words to say, and even how to arrange them -- fell largely to his son, Paul. All four sons discussed and discussed and, in the end, largely came to agreement. That was a challenging process, especially for Paul who was ultimately in charge of deciding and carrying out what needed to be done. We had long discussions, mostly by email, that ran the gamut from the aesthetic to the philosophical, and it may very well have been the most engaging and important dialogue that Miklos's four sons had ever had with each other.

Our Dad downplayed the importance of memorials, and left no instructions about such things, other than saying he did not need a memorial stone. "After all," he would say, in keeping with our sardonic Jewish tradition, "who will come to visit me?" Was this because a memorial to his life was unimportant to him, or because it was important, but only of real value if carefully decided and carried out by those who loved him? If it was such a test, I think he would have been happy knowing that it was not merely something that his sons had to do, but something they felt charged with doing right, something that engaged both their reason and sentiments out of a deep sense of commitment and love. It takes courage to entrust others to do the right thing, especially when you have no chance of correcting them if they fail. Our Dad had that courage. But you could miss it if you didn't pay attention because it was never dressed up in pomp. There was no chest beating. It wasn't necessary. More often than not, you had to dig beneath an otherwise self-effacing style. Another example of his menschiness.