In July, we said good-bye to my incredible Aunt Trish who lived in New York. She was a very special woman.
Her absence was especially felt this past weekend.
I travelled to New York to celebrate the Bat Mitzvah of her granddaughter, Abby. Ab is the daughter of my cousins Cindy and Greg. My wife Tamar couldn’t make it, and other members of the family were tied up, but my parents were there and each Wagman family was represented.
I attended with my kids, Jonah and Jamie, and my sister Jennifer was there with her husband Ofir and son, Jakey. My brother Adam flew with his daughter Sydney, and my other brother Ryan was there with his wife Chelsea and my niece baby Z (Zaidi). Although we couldn’t all be there, it was important to have all families represented for Abby, and to honor our Aunt Trish.
Throughout my childhood, my aunt and father made an effort to ensure the Wagman/ Barad kids were together twice a year, once in New York and once in Toronto. They wanted us all to have a relationship, so they made building a relationship with our cousins a priority. And they succeeded.
Bobby and Cindy are more like siblings and great friends.
In a recent blog I wrote about empathy. I was inspired by this; ‘We need to care less about whether our children are academically gifted and more about whether they would sit with that lonely kid in the cafeteria”.
Well, this past weekend, I was that lonely kid in the cafeteria.
And, just as I thought, my kids sat with me.
my kids, my protectors
There are moments when I witness an action from my children that makes me beam with pride. Sure, Jonah leaves his room a mess and Jamie burps like a 40-year-old man in a bar, but those habits aren’t the moments I’m referring too. Although they too, are gentle reminders that those kids belong to me. I’m talking about their empathy.
Last weekend I realized that my children have an innate need to protect me.
When we sat in the Synagogue preparing for the Bat Mitzvah service, all Wagman (grand) children wanted to sit with their grandparents and cousins. I sat with my siblings a few rows behind them.
Each time Aunt Trish was mentioned two things happened; I began to cry and my children turned around to ensure I was ok.
Later that evening, in what can only be described as the party of all parties, speeches of my aunt were offered in big supply. During one of those speeches, both my children pushed back their chairs, stood up, and walked over to me. They gave me a hug and a kiss and reminded me that everything was going to be ok. I, of course, knew everything would be ok, but feeling their love, was an incredible moment that I won’t soon forget.
I also noticed my Cousin Bobby’s son, Ben, stand from his seat during the same speech and plant himself right next to his grandfather, my Uncle Paul. It was a tough weekend for my uncle. But the love was definitely there.
There are incredible similarities in our children’s values and love of family.
There are moments when you receive affirmation that you may have done a decent job parenting. Like when you get a glimpse of your child’s true colors. This was one of those times and I loved what I saw!
So, dad – your combined efforts with Aunt Trish not only created a friendship between your kids, but set the stage for the next generation of cousins to thrive too.
Aunt Trish, your legacy lives on.
f to the c
F**k CANCER!
I cannot say it any better than that, F-You Cancer.
Being with everyone was very special. We missed my aunt this weekend, but she was there in spirit.
Spending time together solidifies what is important to me; my family and my health.
I want to eat well. Exercise often. Cheat from time to time, and be with those who make me smile.
I have friends and family fighting Cancer. They fight every single day, just like Aunt Trish did.
So F**k CANCER! She was strong and my friends are strong too.
In friendship, love & support,
– Chef Jw
