Meier/Max Funeral speech 17/11/2020

With today being Rosh Chodesh, we aren’t supposed to give a hesped, though I am told we are allowed to say our goodbyes. So here is my goodbye. Meier, or Max as you later preferred to be called.

As the older brother living far away since you were about 5 years old, I got to see and experience you much less than the rest of the family. I don’t have nearly as many of those daily stories and memories of your booming voice, your contagious smile, your infectious laughter, and your adventurous attitude.

But we did have the pleasure of hosting you a lot when you spent 2 years in Israel in yeshiva and then again when you came back for nearly two years as a volunteer in the IDF, along with other family visits at other times.

When you were in yeshiva you brought us the goose after rescuing her from the lively yeshiva boys and their Purim prank. You brought her to us as a baby. She became our pet and around 3 years later, after learning shechita together, we also enjoyed eating her together.

You came by often, usually whipping out your harmonica or guitar to concoct some crazy and whimsical song for the kids, or sitting with them and telling them your new versions of the family stories of the man with the golden arm or blackie the goat. If you weren’t coming to us, you were out exploring Israel and meeting new people. Like the taxi driver that invited you to a Moroccan Rosh Hashana dinner and then wanted you to marry her daughter.

Goodbye Meier. Goodbye Max. Our lives were that much richer for having you in them for the past 35 years, and that much poorer for not having you in them any longer.

I just want to finish by saying something we tell our kids regularly. Life isn’t fair. Just standing here today is evidence enough of that. But that’s not what I am talking about. We get to mourn our brother, our son. We have spouses and family and friends who knew Meier and loved him just as much and sometimes for nearly as long. They mourn Meier, or Max, but unofficially. While they mourn, the burden of keeping everything going falls on them, in addition to being there for us emotionally. Thank you Shifra, and Leslie and Ron and Rachel and all the kids and cousins and friends, for being there, for keeping everything running and for your love.