When I found out that I was pregnant with my third child, I had a boy’s name and a girl’s name picked out immediately. I already had two older sons, and each previous time I was pregnant our chosen girl’s name was Mindel, with a nickname of “Mindy,” named after my grandmother. I had always been sad that I couldn’t use her name…at least not yet. As for our “boys’ name,” we unfortunately had an easy time making a choice, since Mindel’s husband, my grandfather, passed away a few months before I became pregnant.
My grandfather, who everyone called “Lou,” was really named Moshe Leib. He was in his nineties at the time, and we used to go visit him often at the assisted living home that he lived in. In the best of health until a little while before he died, he was always the one joking with the other residents and lifting their spirits, giving them a ride in his car (since very few other residents could still drive), and valuing his friends’ needs above all else. I missed him so much. When we had a son this time, I wasn’t disappointed that we couldn’t use my grandmother’s name. I knew that she would be happy to let my grandfather have a descendent named after him first.
By Keren Perles