Born into the Jazz Age, my grandmother Helen Gerber Bloom embraced many opportunities previously not encouraged for young women. Born on Valentine's Day, she later lost her brother on her birthday and chose to celebrate on a different day. It was a selfless act that embodies much of who she was.
Graduating from Pembroke/Brown with one of the first degrees in Occupational Therapy, she began her life as a career woman. Meeting Mort and marrying him was a change in many ways. Their honeymoon on an ocean liner to Havana was punctuated by an event that many of her generation remember the way my peers remember the Space Challenger blowing up: the bombing of Pearl Harbor. After the captain had received word of the tragedy, the ocean liner went black and sailed to Cuba in the dark. Grandma recalled the palpable fear passengers and crew felt about the possibility of another attack in the Atlantic. There is a beautiful glamorous black and white photo of Helen and Mort in Havana on their honeymoon, but their life together began in shadow of World War II.
My grandmother raised two bright capable children. Despite her early beginnings to be a modern, independent woman, she spent the majority of her life supporting Mort and caring for her children. Helen worked hard to provide, care and love each child. Amazingly she remained independent and vibrant through her bridge, avid reading and friendships she made in both New Jersey and Florida.
Helen never worried about what she did not have but if what she had would be enough. She was careful, thrifty and willing to go without. She enjoyed nice things but found joy in even small things.
She always encouraged my education and my curiosity. She was one of the few who thought teaching was a natural fit.
I remember her holding her first great grandchild, Houlder, in 1995. She had such a smile. It was a treat for everyone to know her life provided for that moment. In 2000, I flew down with three boys four years old and under, and she took us around to the safari and the parks. She enjoyed them and shared many stories of what it was like for her as a mother. The best part was that she offered no advice on how I should be doing it, but only kind words about how I was doing it. She was such a positive person.
Helen was a worrier-optimist as only a Jewish grandmother could be. With concern and a sincere frustration that my grandfather's loss of vision prevented him from reading, my grandmother only expressed how hard this was on Mort. While I felt it might have been harder on her to keep him entertained, she did not complain. She stressed his discomfort; her compassion was a lesson.
In 2008, we drove down in March and spent some time with Grandma. She had been a widow a relatively short time and was more introspective than in the past. She managed pleasantly and without complaint the challenges and troubles of her circulatory issues. She focused on staying active with her bridge while acknowledging that few of her early friends were around anymore. Her mind was sharp as ever. Our conversations would lead her to sending me articles later relating to our discussions.
Loving until the end, she sent me an article recently about Houlder's chronic health issues. As difficult as managing her own mobility had become, she never once complained to me and continued to express understanding and concern for someone else.
In the end, her life may be most memorable for her willingness to put others first and never gripe about her own discomfort. She did not want those of us who survive her to linger through the slowness passing can be and surrendered to the process, once alone, to pass onto whatever is next without being a burden to others. Without complaint. Strong. Independent. Selfless. Helen Gerber Bloom, my grandmother.
