What About the Kids?
Estimated reading time: 12 minutes, 20 seconds
Hospice Conversion?
“Jan can be buried in the family plot in Beth Israel cemetery,” I explained to Rabbi Renee as she entered our apartment to visit Jan during hospice. It is where her parents and other family members are buried, and it is also where she wanted to be buried.
As I took Rabbi Renee’s coat, she said, “That’s good news!
“Yes,” said Jon. “The only concern is that our dad is not Jewish, and I know they want to be buried together.”
We can solve that,” said Rabbi Renee cheerfully. I do conversions and weddings,” she smiled at Jon knowing how much Jan wanted to see both of her sons happily married.
Rabbi Renee went to the bedside to be with Jan. As she did that, I thought about all of the times I might have converted but never did. Besides weddings and funerals, I could not remember when I had been to Christian service. For the last forty years, we have worshiped as a Jewish family.
I stepped into the kitchen for a glass of water and remembered Jan’s comment after my retirement event five months before her cancer diagnosis. In my speech, I mentioned how as Jews, Jan and I shared a belief in Tikkun Olam, repairing the world.
We finally had a chance to talk about the event when we arrived home that evening.
Jan said, “I never heard you refer to yourself as Jewish before tonight.”
As I put my clothes away, I responded, “It is who I am. I check that box on forms. I say it proudly.”
Jan reached out and hugged me.
“You will probably need to convert so we can be buried next to each other,” Jan reminded me. “I want us to be next to each other forever.”
Rabbi Renee interrupted my daydream and asked if she could talk to me alone.
I nodded yes and led her upstairs to the sitting area in the main bedroom.
“Jan would probably be upset with me bringing you into our bedroom,” I said. “She was always worried about someone seeing the bed unmade.”
“It looks fine to me.”
There is only one of me, and I do not sleep well, and I like to keep things tidy.
I offered Rabbi Renee the cushy brown chair that Jan liked and took the green rocking chair across from her.
“I have a few questions,” she said.
I was sure this was the beginning of my conversion, but she surprised me.
I have heard parts of how you met, but maybe you can tell me the full story.
“Well, most people never want the whole story. They stop once I mention the wine being poured on my head as that seems either the punch line or confirmation that we were just two drunk kids.”
Slowly, I told Rabbi Renee the whole story, expecting she would ask me about conversion once I was done. She never did, but it was one of the most calming moments during hospice. For a few precious moments, I could tell our love story fully, honestly, and with the passion it deserved.
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
The book Never Forget Our People Were Always Free is told through parables. It features intimate glimpses of political and 
