Morris (Mashe) Kodish (Oct. 21, 1910-Oct. 12, 2004) 11 comments

12 Oct 2004 @ 22:40, by Bruce Kodish On September 26 I went to Pittsburgh, PA for a week to spend some time with my father who lived by himself in a small condo apartment. He was doing okay. We had a nice visit hanging out together. We ate out (Dad drove wherever we went), he did some cooking, we drank some wine, talked politics (he didn't like Bush and was voting for Kerry)and other things, watched T.V., etc. Dad drove me to the airport in the afternoon and I got back to my home in Pasadena, CA. late on Sun. Oct. 3. Dad had been having some pain in his back and side the last couple of days and feeling weak. Didn't sleep well, Fri. night. Bad news given that he had a large thoracic aneurysm that had, according to a recent CT scan, gotten bigger.(I had spent about 3 months in Pittsburgh earlier this year helping him recover from an earlier bout with this--which almost killed him.) But he had recovered and was independent again, albeit with "no energy" and "feeling pooped" most of the time. Over the weekend, and again yesterday,I asked Dad to call his doctor, who was also a friend. Dr. Green made a housecall yesterday eve. around 7:00 and examined him. Not much he could do. Dad was more or less okay. He had already taken a couple of Percocets--which cut the pain. Dad went to bed after the doctor left, feeling better. When he didn't call me again, as he had promised, I called him again (my third call yesterday) at 8:00 p.m. Pittsburgh time. Apparently I woke him up. "Dad," I said, "I think I should come in." "No, you don't need to. You've got things to do." "Dad, whatever I have to do, nothing, no one is more important to me than you." "I'll be okay," he said. "Well, don't worry," I said. I was worried. "I'm not worried" "OK, I'll call you tomorrow," I told him. "You can call your regular time in the afternoon." "No, I'll call you earlier. How about 10:00 in the morning?" Silence. I told him I would call him at 11:00 a.m. his time this morning. That was okay. I told him I loved him. Told him his body was very adapatable and when he got over this episode,we would talk again about him staying with my sister in Dallas. He said he thought he would spend a couple of months there, January and February (the harshest winter months in Pittsburgh). That was huge progress as far as I was concerned, since, til recently, Dad had always resisted giving up any of his independent living in the place that he knew, We ended our conversation. "I love you, Dad." "I love you, Bruce." When I called this a.m. at 11:00, 8:00 a.m. here--no answer. Called the condo office and they went in with my permission. Dad was lying on his side in bed, unresponsive. EMT's were called. An EMT told me over the phone that he looked peaceful as a man does who dies in his sleep. He was almost 94 (birthday on Oct. 21) and had been independent, had continued driving--well and safely,and was hoping again to start playing golf next spring despite the loss of energy from his first bout with the thoracic aneurysm in February. His time since then was a gift. After I left at the end of May, Dad was on his own. He spent several weeks in Dallas visiting my sister over the July 4th holidays; my sister visited him in Aug. and then I saw him again for a week just a week ago. Now he's gone. My wife and I are going to Pittsburgh Wed nite on a "red eye." Graveside cermony will be Mon. (a little late for Jews) but my sister, drat it, is somewhere out in the Ionian Sea off of Croatia on a cruise. She's scrambling to get back earlier than the debarkation in Venice and flight home to Dallas which had been scheduled for Saturday. I'll probably be somewhat incommunicado for a while. Perhaps since I expected the worst I'm holding up pretty well. My father had a fine life. He was a wonderful man--in the tough Jew mold. I'll write more about him later

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