by Daniel A. Kaufman
My father died last night after a three year struggle with congestive heart failure and all that comes with it. Had he made it to June, he would have been 94. My mother remains with us, and in August will turn 90.
“Aba” — which is what I always called him and means “father” in Hebrew — was a remarkable man. To see just how remarkable, I recommend reading the extended quotations I pulled from his most recent book on his life and which I wrote with him. His time on the earth spanned almost the entire 20th Century and part of the 21st. He was chased out of one country, helped found another, and finally came to America to start a family and a business and a life.
I plan to write an extended essay on my father and on our experience of the last three years. For now, let me just say that I am immensely grateful to him: for being a good father to me and an even better grandfather to my daughter Victoria. I loved him and always will.