On Death and Family

**Warning: Rambling Post**

The photo is the only close up that I could find. It is from the kids' wedding.

My son in law's step-grandfather died yesterday. My immediate reaction was, how sad. I know he was 89, ill and a bit of a bear, but it still warrants a moment.

He was a Russian Jew that survived a concentration camp in Poland. (Sorry, I don't know which one). He lost many family members and wouldn't talk about it.

He was an officer in the Russian Army (General?). He didn't talk much about that either.

Technically, we never talked about much since his English was sketchy at best and my Russian is nonexistent.

We did have a nice conversation at Easter dinner a few years ago. He was tickled pink that Christian and Orthodox Easter fell on the same weekend as Passover. He didn't feel like an outsider for once.

Let me repeat that: He didn't feel like an outsider for once.

He left Russia with his wife's family to America in the early '90's. They didn't really have a game plan, just a wish to experience Religious Freedom and Capitalism all in one little package: America.

A story we have all heard before, a family's journey to what they pray is a better life.

The family grew and babies were born. Businesses started and money earned.

The American Dream.

So here's to you, you old Russian bear:

I hope you are free of pain and in the bosom of your loving family. They waited a long time to see you again.

Salud