It wouldn’t be easy to both fast and care for my father the entire day. So, the zechus of the mitzvah fell on me

As told to Sarah Pardes by Leah Nissan

I

knew well the hallways leading to my father’s room at the nursing home. For the past few months, his room had become like a second home to me.

My father z”l entered the nursing home in Sivan. As a result of his illness, he suffered several strokes, which ultimately left him completely paralyzed. His cognitive functioning was unimpaired, baruch Hashem, but he couldn’t talk, walk, do almost anything with his hands, or even swallow, due to paralysis of the throat muscles.

Throughout the summer, we visited him daily in rotating shifts. The shifts were divided between myself, my mother, and my siblings, but as the oldest daughter, I bore the lion’s share of the responsibility. Most of my children were married, and my two youngest sons were in yeshivah, so technically it was easiest for me to come on weekdays, and on Shabbos, too.

Soon the Yamim Noraim arrived. My mother chose to spend Rosh Hashanah with my father, sleeping in a guest room reserved for the family of patients. But it was taxing. She was no longer young, and she was worried about Yom Kippur: It wouldn’t be easy to both fast and care for my father the entire day. So, the zechus of the mitzvah fell on me.