Missing Moshe

By: Larry Gordon

For us, these seven years have passed swiftly. For his five beautiful children, no doubt these seven years have felt more like an eternity.

The memories of that day—as well as the shock—will live with us forever. Moshe Hirsch, our son-in-law, at just 39 years old, departed this world way too soon.

Nison making a siyum Monday night Jeremy looks on

Moshe feeding Rosie and Yosef and Gavi looking on

Dovi cutting Gavi’s hair at his upsherin

I hope that Malkie and her children read this column because, other than serving as a memorial to that cherished, outstanding young man, this is also a recollection of a special and difficult time.

To me, that first afternoon Minchah in their home will always be clear as day. It is a memory I cannot shake and never want to: Moshe’s two oldest sons, Dovid, 11, and Nison, 9, with soft voices recited Kaddish for the father whom they greatly loved and admired but who was now gone.

I was surprised at how stoic and composed they were that day. As the weeks and months passed during the year of aveilus, that was the one thing I could never grow accustomed to hearing: two young boys reciting Kaddish for a cherished father in voices that had not yet matured. I could not understand how such a thing could happen.

These are the questions that also troubled Moshe Rabbeinu in the events we read about in last week’s Torah reading, Ki Sisa. After Moshe managed to get Hashem to forgive the Jewish people for their worship of the Golden Calf, he calculated that the time was right and asked to see Hashem’s glory.

Our commentators explain that what Moshe was asking Hashem for was an explanation for why bad things happen to good people.

Our son-in-law, Moshe Hirsch, was all good—always. In the ensuing weeks and months and even years, I met people who related to me the many charitable deeds he had performed, whether it was donating to a charitable cause or a person in need. Whatever Moshe did, he did quietly and without fanfare. In the months before his passing, he reluctantly agreed to be an honoree at the annual Yeshiva of South Shore Dinner.

A few days ago, on Moshe’s yahrzeit, the 20th of Adar, I was talking with his brother Shlomie about his nieces and nephews (our grandchildren) concerning what Moshe was missing. We both agreed that Moshe was not really missing anything. On the contrary, as his children grew and matured and the older ones evolved into young adults, surely Moshe was instrumental in that evolution in a manner that was beyond our grasp.

We talked about Moshe and Malkie’s oldest son, Dovid, named for his grandfather (Rita Hirsch’s father), and how he was spending this year learning in yeshiva in Israel. Dovid is an amazing young man who is meticulously devoted to Torah and mitzvos. He always calls Esta and me every Friday before Shabbos to see how we’re doing and to wish us a good Shabbos.

That’s how I learn about where he is in Israel and what he’s doing for Shabbos. Sometimes he spends time at a friend’s grandparents’ house in Beit Shemesh. Recently, he and seven other boys rented an Airbnb and spent Shabbos in Tzfat. Their objective now is to find a way to get back to the U.S. before Pesach, quite a challenge given that so many airports are closed due to the war in Iran.

It’s certainly an experience and an adventure that these children will always remember. Dovid loves learning in Israel and has shared with me how long he’d like to continue learning there. He asked me not to share this information with anyone and I’m not.

Next in line is Nison, named for my dad, now learning in DRS Yeshiva High School in Woodmere. He’s a fun and jovial young man with a great sense of humor. He’s a strong kid and has always loved sports, especially baseball. He can hit a ball quite a distance, with some calculating he can hit a ball a mile. On the yahrzeit earlier this week, I was telling him how proud his father was to see him grow into such a fine young man. Nison smiled and said, “Yeah, thanks.”

Then there’s Yosef, named after Moshe’s grandfather, Yossel Hirsch. He was one of the two brothers who owned Hirsch Brothers Bakery, which was known for their kosher for Pesach cakes that they sold in their bakery and in stores in our communities. They were great innovators and creative when it came to Passover cakes, which used to be limited to sponge and marble.

It was their son and my mechutan, R’ Yumi, who took the business to the next level, experimenting with potato starch instead of gebrukts matzo meal, which opened up the business to a whole new market. It was Yumi along with his father and uncle who developed cakes that are considered natural parts of the market today, like brownies, rainbow cake, seven-layer cake, checkerboard cake, and so much more.

I bring that up because there was one year when I went to pick up some Pesach food and remember noticing out of the corner of my eye two teenage boys, Shloime and his younger brother Moshe, working behind the counter. Those were the good old days. Very good old days.

Then Gavriel was born. Gavi, the only redhead who carries on the Hirsch family tradition of redheads. We have our own share of redheads in the Gordon family is well.

Gavi was just five years old when his father passed away, so he was able to absorb what was going on and only later the realization sank in. Years later, after Malkie had married Jeremy, we would sometimes find Gavriel trying to explain to his younger sister Rosie (named after my mom) that they had once had a tatty and now they have a daddy.

Rosie was just eighteen months old when her father was suddenly niftar. She probably has memories that her siblings share with her, but I don’t think she recalls anything firsthand.

She’s eight years old now and a young and beautiful little princess.

Malkie never imagined that one day she would be a widow with five children. But she showed a strength and fortitude that not even she knew she possessed. During the last seven years, Malkie developed into a perceptive writer with tremendous insight and erudition. Today, she works hard at raising her kids with Jeremy and inspiring and uplifting others with her writing.

We miss Moshe—Chaim Moshe ben Binyomin Tzvi—but in his absence, I think we’re all doing okay. Especially his brave and beautiful children. 

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