Daddy was no quitter —and neither am I

It's not like I haven't been trying — the past months have been one long chain of increasingly desperate attempts.

But no matter the effort I invest, the tricks I try., the coaches I consult, those obstinate numbers don’t budge. Regardless of the nights I toss, the hours I spend hunched at my computer, staring at the spreadsheet titled “Simon E. Friedler Expediting Corp,” the bold figures at the bottom stare back unflinchingly and keep on inching steadily, heedlessly, down, down, down.

A spasm of pain shoots through my lower back. I jerk, then carefully straighten up, shifting the phone to my other ear.

I should’ve pursued other clients more aggressively, back when Insignia Construction still provided a steady flow of lucrative jobs. Two years ago, Insignia changed management and dropped off my radar. Then the IRS fiasco sucked us dry, and Covid froze construction for months, leaving expeditors like myself with no building permits to obtain, no construction plans to get approved – and no source of income. And then self-filing with DOB NOW gained popularity. I’ve been struggling since.

“Also,” my sister Shaina says in my ear, “we should talk about Daddy’s yahrtzeit.”

I knead my fingers into my back and wish we weren’t talking about Daddy. Not now, not with this accusatory report eight inches from my face.

“We could do the seudah at my place,” Yehudis offers. “We’re looking at….”

“Three weeks from Wednesday,” Binyamin says. “Day of my road test.” We crack up.

“Number?” Tzvi asks drily.

Binyamin groans. “Four. And I’m still trying!”

“In true Friedler fashion.”

More laughter.

“Born of perseverance,” Daddy would quip about us, because it had taken quite a bit until his marriage to Ma came to be. But Daddy was nothing if not determined.

It was that determination that turned Daddy, a dyslexic teen, into the successful businessman he was. It also powered him through Ma’s terminal illness, got him mobile again after his stroke, and helped him carry the family singlehandedly for so many years.

It’s that same persistence that landed Tzvi partner in his accounting firm, turned Shaina into a master violinist, and left Binyamin’s rebbeim awed.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year,” Yehudis says quietly.

I nod. “It still seems strange that he’s gone.”

I think of Daddy, a bastion of strength, rock-solid and very much alive. The deluge of emotion knocks me breathless.