Something else I’ve been working on lately…

Ma was a wreck at the service. You get it, they’ve been married forever, and you’ve seen it in the pictures, and other funerals, but you never thought your own mother would act that way. Wailing how she should have gone first, wanting to throw herself into the open grave. It took you and two of Pop’s guys to stop her. On the way back to the house to sit shiva, you tell Lola you should have let the doctor give her something. She nods, says she tried. Later you find out that Ma called her a golddigger and slapped her face. But your Lola, she’s so great that day. Always at your elbow, all perfumed and sophisticated, smoothing things over, thanking everyone for coming. It’s smart of her, because you can barely think straight, and you’re grateful. You’ll buy her something from Tiffany’s to show her how much. Maybe she’ll be marriage material after all, despite what Ma thinks. You daydream how you’ll propose, all romantic-like, but it isn’t the right time to think that out. Herschel and Moishe want to talk. You throw down a glass of bootleg scotch—only the best for Pop—and take them into a quiet room upstairs. Yeah, Pop is gone, but business is business. Guys need direction. A show of strength. One thing you’d learned from Pop is not to leave a vacuum. It only invites trouble. Later, you’ll do something for him. Maybe give to that charity that grows trees in Jewish Palestine or feeds hungry kids. But today is for thinking about tomorrow. If only you’d had more time to learn from him the kind of guts that tomorrow would take.