“It is so gross the way he talks while he eats. Then I’d press the RECORD button and quietly unleash all my anguish. I would slide aside one of the doors to my bedroom closet, push my shoes out of the way, and sit on the floor. Three hours later he died.Īs I was approaching my thirteenth birthday and bat mitzvah, I began whispering my most private feelings into a tape recorder. I held his hand, put my face close to his, and told him that I loved him and would see him the next time I visited. It took all his strength to speak a few words. He couldn’t get out of bed, and the tumors were causing him to lose his voice. After several months in the hospital Grandpa’s body betrayed him completely. He’d command, “Move, foot! Move!” but it fought him for every step. The physical therapist told him to talk to his limbs when they weren’t cooperating. Months of therapy brought some movement back to his arm and leg. Then Grandpa had a stroke that paralyzed his left side. These were two of the loudest noises I had ever heard. I winced at the volume of his whistle and then watched the horses come running in, the rumbling of their hooves shaking the ground. I stood out of the way in the tack room as Grandpa raised two fingers to his mouth and forced air through the small crack between them.