He was a bialy-eater.
Bialys are a relative
of the bagel,tasty
onion-and-poppy-seed-centered.
(I learned to bake them.)
His Jewish ancestors
came from the part of Poland
where pogroms
and Nazis
decimated
his people
but never managed to kill
the spirit.
Spirit and strength
my husband had
in abundance.
His electric-fast wit
lightened
many difficult times.
His astonishing
memory
and generous listening
combined with
titanium-strength
tenacity
made him a gifted
healer: a doctor who saved
and restored
many lives.
He loved life
with an intensity that
few people live, ever–
and he did
even during years with
advanced cancer.
Some of our best time
was drinking coffee
eating bialys
with lox and cheese
looking out the windows–
together.
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Lovely as always.