Recently, I asked my rabbi two questions: whether souls reunite and what questions to ask God. He said traditional Jewish theology teaches us that souls do reunite, and that God is constantly bombarded with questions like “Why are vacuum cleaner bags so hard to change?” “If you whack a mosquito on the wall, how do you get the blood out?” “How will I recognize my family?”
So, when I reunite with my parents, I imagine it will go something like this:
Mother: The way you always ran across the street without looking, we expected you much sooner.
Mark: I would have been, but I had a stop to make first.
Mom: The hot place?
(Mark nods.)
Mother: Oy. Why?
Mark: Something about not enjoying all his gifts.
Mom: Fooey. Gifts, shmifts. We went to the Catskills every summer. No gift beats the Catskills. Was it like hot yoga?
Mark: Worse. More like Florida’s terrible humidity. You look good, Mom.
Mom: Aaah. For a dead person. There’s always a slight breeze here, so my hair is constantly messy. The best part about being here is not having to go to the supermarket four days a week. Fruit never gets mushy, and you never have to sniff milk. And even 1,000-year-old people smell like newborn babies.
Mark: Where’s Dad?
Mom: Napping as usual.
Mark: Let’s surprise him.
Mom: Not allowed to wake. Here, you get up when you get up. Could be 10 minutes, could be a year.
Mark: Have you seen God?
Mom: I have my first appointment next August.
Mark: August? You’ve been here 30 years.
Mom: Remember how long it took to get someone to look at my swollen knee? Here it’s worse. The ones that didn’t see it coming go in first.
Mark: Who just walked by?
Mom: Paul Newman. So good-looking.
Mark: How did he get into the Jewish section?
Mom: Fake news. There’s no Jewish section. It’s like the Bronx; everyone’s mushed together. We were very excited; we heard Barbra Streisand was coming — but fake news.
(Mark’s father enters. Mark and Father hug.)
Mom: He had to stop at the hot place first.
Father: I hear the humidity is awful. Did you bring bagels?
Mark: I forgot.
Father: Too bad. Even here, the bagels are not like the New York ones.
Mark: I’ll go back to get some.
Father: No going back.
Mother: He knows — still a smart-ass.
Mark: What song keeps playing?
Father: It’s “God Only Knows.” He loves that song. Hates “Imagine” by Lennon.
Mark: I really miss my family.
Father: If they’re dressed, you can peek in on them. We peeked on you. You had a very good life. One thing here you never seem to get over is missing friends and family. They become a real part of you forever. I even miss Sandy, our Cocker Spaniel.
Mother: That dog pished everywhere.
Father: You know what I miss? Kindness. Here, everyone is so kind; it’s not so special. During life, kindness meant so much. When I got sick, you sat with me and held my hand. Kindness.
Mark: I heard you can help people from here.
Father: If it has nothing to do with their free will. He’s a stickler on the free will thing.
Mother: Free will is like Social Security; you can’t touch it.
Mark: I keep thinking about things I regret.
Father: Like what?
Mark: I regret not paying more attention to the family. I regret not being a better son.
Father: You were a wonderful husband, father and son. Right, honey?
Mother: I guess.
Father: Now rest; we have forever to catch up.
Mother: I have my book club tonight. You get to read all the books you wanted to read but never made time for. How about breakfast tomorrow? I’ll make your favorite.
Mark: Cinnamon waffles? I haven’t had those since I was…
Mother: Sixteen.
Mark: You know, I just realized how we all recognize each other.
Father: How?
Mark: We’re all the same now as then. It’s amazing. If you were any different, I’d have been disappointed. Mom, Dad, I love you and I missed you.
Father: We missed you, and we love you.
(Mother nods.)
Mother: We are who we are.
Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”
