This Weeks Very Short Story: Chapter 27

I don’ like hospital, can’t remember when I did. I think this goes back to the time my grandfather’ spend at Sinai Hospital before he passed. I was very young. Even today when I have to work in the hospital, I usually get in and out as quick as possible. 

In those days when my grandfather was in the hospital, they did not let children upstairs. I remember running around and probably misbehaving in the lobby at Sinai Hospital with my brother and two cousins. I am sure were told many times to behave by the adult that was supposed to be watching us. 

I remember when my grandfather passed. I remember them telling me about it. I did not understand. I remember that they gave me an ice cream cone. I remember it melting as I was crying as I walked down the street on Ithaca. I was seven. 

When the funeral came for my grandfather happened, they dressed us up in our dress clothes. I remember going to the funeral. They did not let us go in. It did not mean anything to me at the time. Years later when I was working in Los Angeles and my father asked me to go to the funeral of one of his cousins. It was in a part of Los Angeles, that I did not know. I got my maps together and eventually made it to the funeral. It was outside. My aunt, actually cousin whose brother had passed, said to me that she was glad that I came, but if the funeral was inside, they would not have let me inside. 

Years later after my experience with funerals, I had a patient who was a Rabbi. One time I remembered about the funerals and asked him why I wouldn’t I be allow in. This was something no one had ever explained to me. Well, it turns out we are Kohan according to our Jewish history and that is what they do. They keep the Kohanim in a separate room during the funeral. Most funerals that I have attended since that time have not made that distinction and everyone sits together.