This Thursday, May 1st, 2025 would have been my brother Jeff’s 62nd birthday. This is the first birthday that I can’t say happy birthday to him in person.
I really loved/still love my little brother. Just because I can no longer see him in his physical form does not mean I love him any less, perhaps more.
Jeff and I shared a love for many of the same things: books, music, comedy in any form, films, and God, although he probably would have called it Higher Power.
My brother’s life was shaped by being born with a broken heart (literally). From infancy my parents’ had the knowledge that their baby boy had a serious birth defect (more than one actually). As he got older the effects of these defects became more and more apparent. The blue fingernails and progressively bluish tint to his lips was an outward sign we could all see. He couldn’t do sports as a little boy although I know he would have really liked to. So he used the muscle that he could use which was his very agile brain. Boy was he smart. At a very young age I remember he knew every US President by heart and could recite it for you. He was an avid reader and a really good piano player.
His life was also punctuated by frequent visits to a pediatric cardiologist who specialized in congenital defects. My parents had to go into Manhattan each time he had a checkup, which they tried to make into something pleasant by taking him to a different restaurant each time (there are plenty there to choose from).
Some time after his Bar Mitzvah the doctor really sounded the alarm that if Jeff did not undergo open heart surgery soon he would be lucky to make it to age 18. My parents were very very scared since this was still relatively new surgical territory.
But at age 16 Jeff had his first open heart surgery at the Mayo Clinic. I was privileged to be there to help my mother, who, needless to say, was very very nervous. Again, at age 18, Jeff needed to undergo a second open heart surgery at the Mayo Clinic. I went with him and my mother to be a support. I distinctly remember the day of this second surgery, October 6, 1981. As my mother and I sat anxiously in the waiting room while they operated on Jeff, the news came on the television that Anwar Sadat had been shot to death. Most older Americans can recall what they were doing when they heard that JFK or MLK was shot. Younger Americans can tell you what they were doing when they heard about the destruction of the Twin Towers. I can add to that memory repertoire with my recall of the moment that I heard that Sadat had been killed. It was a particularly painful moment as his death made me a lot more skeptical that peace would take place in the Middle East.
Back to Jeff. Thank God he recovered and went on to live a productive and sober life. He became a librarian and married a human angel named Cindy. He was the proud stepfather of Charlie and Lucinda and the proud pet dad of many a fur baby.
He had a great sense of humor and we both shared a love of the absurd.
This Thursday, on his birthday, I will be getting my left eye surgically enhanced. I like to believe this is Jeff’s birthday gift to me. Since he no longer needs a physical gift from me, he is giving me one. May this gift of balanced, clear vision enable me to give something back to this world. My brother Jeff was all about service. He ministered to countless alcoholics in their hour of need. May my new vision be part of his legacy, and that this gift will be used in the spirit of service. Amen.
Musings of a Jewish Mom 