My friend Yaaqov

"Did you hear? Yaaqov is dying," my boss informed me. The idea of an active death process is still strange to me. When do we make that switch from being really sick to actually dying? But that's a topic for another day. Back to today's story. I had to go down to the second floor anyway, so I took a moment to stop by Yaaqov's room. I peeked in, but he was asleep.

Yaaqov is from Israel. By the time I met him two years ago, he was already using a wheelchair. I didn't know him well. He mostly stayed in his room reading books in Hebrew, writing, and calling the receptionist. He chose not to have a television saying that "it rots your brain out". When he grew tired of reading he would make up excuses to call somebody. I, myself, have had a few conversations with Yaaqov while filling in for the receptionist.

"Good afternoon Kingsley Manor"
"Who is this?"
"Shalom Yaaqov. It's Shaun."
"Oh. Shalom my dear friend Shaun. Is my mail there?"
"No. not yet. We'll bring it to you when it gets here."
"Tov tov (good good). Did I tell you how the word shield comes from Hebrew?"
"Yes I seem to recall that from a conversation we had earlier today." He then goes on to review with me the etymology of the word along with how the "German thieves" stole it and claimed it as their own. Eventually I'm forced to say, "I'm sorry Yaaqov. I actually have to go now. Somebody is here at the front desk. I'll talk to you later. Lehitra'ot"

10 seconds later the phone rings again.

"Good afternoon. Kingsley Manor."
"I said todah rabah (thank you). I don't think you heard me because you hung up."

Yaaqov was a lonely man who looked for social interaction wherever he could. Shortly after he disovered my existence, I was surprised to receive a message from him on my cell phone. When I didn't respond within the hour, he called again.

"Shalom Shaun. I need to ask a favor of you. I need you to come to my room and get an article and photocopy it for me."

Later in his room after bringing him the copies.

"Todah rabah. Todah rabah. This is perfect. Tov. Before you go, did I tell you that the word table comes from Hebrew?"

Now lest I'm painting an incomplete picture, let me tell you that many people grew frustrated with Yaaqov. Receptionists would dread his phone calls and staff members warned me to be careful because he could be abusive. He was very demanding and often demeaning.

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! HOW CAN YOU BE SO STUPID? GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

But Yaaqov didn't hold a grudge, and as one security guard put it, "It's impossible to stay mad at Yaaqov." The receptionists, although frustrated, never stopped liking him or doing things for him.

I wasn't quite prepared for the news when only 3 hours after I had seen him, the receptionist told me "our friend Yaaqov died." We all agreed that for a man who was so frustrating, he really grew on you. How can you like somebody who frustrated you so much?

I've had other residents pass away. Some I knew even better than I knew him, but this was the first time I really felt impacted by the death of a resident. Perhaps it's because I never visited him to practice my Hebrew like I kept meaning to. Or perhaps it's because I was in his room within the same hour that he died. More likely, it's because with Yaaqov, his absence is more noticeable. The security guard even notices that nobody is calling at night anymore. "Yaaqov kept this place alive." he says. Whatever the reason, I'm going to miss him.

"Yaaqov, I'm sorry. I really must go. The phone is ringing. Someone is at the door and there is a resident who needs my attention here at the front desk."
"Before you go, did I tell you how the word alphabet comes from Hebrew? Let me tell you..."