SHERRY DIMARSKY

I was not privileged to know Sherry personally. Sure, every once in a while I would hear her name mentioned, always followed by "she is so great; you really should meet her". Due to my cynical nature, I usually ignore exclamations like this. OK, lots of people are "great" to an even bigger population segment; so what? What, or, rather, who actually changed my mind was, of course, my sis. She may be as cynical as I am, but, at the same token, she is way more sociable, friendly, and wise about people than I am, and thanks to her, I was privileged to get a glimpse of Sherry's personality.

Amongst many self proclaimed leaders of Jewish community and an even bigger number of do-gooders, Sherry shined as, for the lack of better expression, a genuine article. She was warm, funny, kind, helpful, and down to earth; in short, Sherry was just a wonderful human being and a Bat Israel in a truest sense.

I knew she had underwent a lung transplant, and I admired her tenacity and upbeat attitude. I also heard that she was not feeling well, so, when she did not respond to my last voicemail, I did not pay too much attention to it. Then I got busy with the usual nonsense life throughs at us; next thing I know, I get an e-mail saying that Sherry was very ill, that her body was rejecting the lung, and a request for prayers for her recovery. I can't finish the e-mail for tears in my eyes; I just quickly scan for her full name and say a little prayer. Next, when I check my e-mails again in the afternoon, there is one new with "Baruch Dayan Emet" in the subject. I do not even need to open it to realize what it means; thank G-d not many people were passing by my desk that day: it would be very hard to explain why I was sitting there teary-eyed.

When the terrible news have sunk in a bit, a hard thought followed: "only good die young"; and on the heels of it another thought, something I have learned a long time ago: when a righteous person is taken from us, no matter the circumstances, it is not the fault of the person; it is our fault because we did not deserve that person. These things keep turning around in my mind, over and over again, along with a little selfish thought that now she will never respond to my voicemail, and even if I decide to visit Chicago again, I won't be able to meet her.

Above all the jumbled and incoherent thoughts, I keep thinking about her family. They have lost a mother, a wife, and, most horrible of all, a child. May G-d comfort them.