P etersburg Virginia is not exactly known as a bastion of Jewish life.

Nevertheless there are Jews who live there and though they number not more than a few hundred they are as precious as any Jew in Passaic or Pittsburgh.

Hattie Bernstein was one of those unique Jews who called Petersburg her home. Born in 1937 in Pittsburgh Hattie was privileged to give birth to three children. Unfortunately though she wasn’t destined to have much nachas or joy from her family.

Her husband passed away at a young age and soon she became estranged from two of her three children only maintaining very superficial and infrequent communication with the third.

A week after Pesach Hattie failed to show up to her regular Mahjong game. When the police arrived they found her lonely lifeless body.

Her son a physician in Phoenix communicated to the local funeral home that his mother’s remains should be cremated as he had no time to travel to Petersburg.

When the son spoke to his Aunt Beatrice in Chicago to inform her of her sister’s demise he mentioned that there would be no funeral or burial as his mother was being cremated.

Aunt Beatrice had only one small request from her nephew: Could he please call his cousin Menachem in Passaic? She pleaded with him to do this one favor for her before he finalized the cremation.

The son agreed and called his cousin Menachem.

As soon as Menachem heard about the upcoming cremation his stomach turned.

He attempted to convince his cousin of the necessity of a proper Jewish burial but all his pleas fell on deaf ears until Menachem said “Please let me do this for my aunt. I will take care of everything including the entire cost of a Jewish burial.”

When the son heard this he finally agreed to allow Menachem to arrange a Jewish burial.

And Menachem went to work with alacrity.

He located the traditional rabbi in Petersburg who turned out to be a fine person who was more than willing to help out.

The local undertaker was contacted and a plot was acquired in the old Jewish cemetery in Petersburg. Menachem and his son-in-law purchased tickets to fly to Richmond and drive from there to Petersburg in a rental car.

With Menachem his son-in-law and the local rabbi in attendance Hattie Bernstein was brought to a proper kever Yisrael in Petersburg Virginia.

After the burial was complete and all were shaking hands Menachem turned to the local rabbi and asked “You know I’m so happy my Aunt Hattie was able to have a proper Jewish burial. Did you know her well?”

The rabbi admitted that in the last few years Hattie was more of a “three-day-a-year Jew”; however he remembered how up to a few years before she used to volunteer to help out with the local bingo game.

As everyone was about to drive away the rabbi suddenly knocked on Menachem’s car window and said “Wait there was one other thing. When she first moved here 20 years ago she was very involved in our chevra kaddisha. I clearly remember her attending meetings and assisting us in establishing the chevra kaddisha.”

Menachem shook his head as he looked at his son-in-law. “Nothing is ever forgotten and nothing goes unrewarded. Today we were privileged to witness this firsthand. We just never know how a ‘forgotten’ chesed will be there for us.”

A few days later Menachem received a call from the funeral director in Petersburg.

A check had arrived in the mail from Hattie’s son; it contained payment in full. The note attached said two words: “Thank you.”

We just never know. (Originally featured in Mishpacha Issue 667)