The Nechoma Greisman Anthology

Section 9: NECHOMA AS OTHERS SAW HER An outstretched hand in the fog of confusion

In Her Home

If you were asked to recall the most notable praiseworthy qualities of a good friend, how easy would it be? Would it be enough to remember the times that she was there when you needed her? Or the now-famous little labeled packages of frozen foods ready to re-heat in the microwave whenever her husband came home? Or the 1 a.m. laundry-folding on the dining-room table so that everything would be in order for the next day? Or how dedicated she was to her family? Or the way you could talk to her about things that no-one else could or wanted to understand?

Somehow, even a list pages and pages long would never be enough to express everything. Somehow, who she was could never quite be captured. Everything that's been said about Nechomie is true. All the accolades, all the praises, all the loving, pained words -- but somehow she floats above them all, just out of reach.

During the week of shiva her family sat and listened and listened, and were awed. They never knew. And the astonishing thing is that it seems that none of us did. Each one of us knew the Nechomie who was "ours" -- but we had no idea that she was so dear to so many people. Because her greatness was her tznius -- she really personified the kol k'vudah bas melech p'nima.

I first met Nechomie soon after she got married, not long before she left on shlichus for Tsfas, and although our paths in Eretz Yisroel seemed to cross and then diverge again, we always stayed in touch. When my nine-year-old son was born with serious medical problems requiring emergency surgery, we moved our family to Nechomie's for two weeks to be near the hospital. She and her family took care of us with unconditional love and support, as they continued to do over the years. When he needed hospitalization on another occasion she was there, and so I spent time in her various homes (her family moved a lot but I don't recall her complaining).

It was rare to see her sitting still. She was always busy, very matter-of-factly doing whatever needed doing, always looking for ways to be more efficient -- yet somehow she was never intimidating. She involved her children in the running of the household. The feeling you had in her home was of a smoothly functioning, secure, caring, concerned whole. A video machine made the Rebbe's presence a constant part of life, and the telephone was always ringing. That was another unique thing about Nechomie. She was one of the few people I knew who I felt was really interested in my experiences and struggles as a ba'alas-teshuva -- not so much out of curiosity, or because she wanted to help me -- but as a friend. She felt that she could find in my experience, some of the keys to her own questions. Our questions were different, but I honestly think that she tried to learn about herself from everyone she knew. She genuinely wanted to understand, because she cared so much.

I always knew that she gave classes, but I never went to one of them. I remember her feeling upset at one point (when she was pregnant and had to be off her feet) that she couldn't continue the classes. But somehow I never imagined the hundreds of people who were touched by her words, and who were very disappointed that she wasn't there. Because that was the thing about Nechomie. She was always there. Always really there. And I guess that's why it's so hard to accept that she's just not there anymore. At least not here.

The only consolation is that she is where it really matters, and that it will be her gentle but firm coaxing that will convince the Aibishter that it is really time.