My father was my mentor

by Florence Glucksman

My father was my mentor and I was his favorite. He worked very hard at the Bronx Terminal Market where he went out on a truck to deliver food to stores.
On Friday, we sat around waiting for him to come home, take a shower and go to synagogue. Then we had our Friday night meal with Zmirot (Hebrew songs). We all went to services Saturday. My father loved learning and would study with the rabbi. My father died suddenly at 56, I was about 18. When the hearse passed the shul, the doors were opened – a special honor, not done for many people. For a long time after that I could not walk into the shul. My sister asked the rabbi to talk to me. He didn’t. I was devastated. Eventually I returned to the shul, but to this day -- because I was very angry that my father had died -- I do not go to slichos, the service that starts the High Holidays.