My Father Elie V. Esses A"H

As I sit here writing this, I realize how fortunate I was to have Elie Esses as my father. There are not enough words to express his influence on my life. It is through his example that I hope to one day to be the father, husband and grandfather he was.

My father was strict, hardworking, strong, charismatic, loving, gentle, and he had a contagious smile. He loved his family and was deeply devoted to them.

He was committed to the practice and preservation of Jewish life. His fear of G-d influenced everything he did. No one understood the obligation of performing hesed more clearly than my father; it was his life’s mission.

His life was one worth emulating—a life of great faith and generosity, a life of service to others, a life of simple joys. We spoke regularly about our spiritual and communal responsibility as Jews, particularly our responsibilities to G-d, Israel, our community and every person, no matter their background.

I asked my mother many times, “Why does daddy work so much?”

She looked at me and said, “Honey, everyone’s daddy works a lot.”

I didn’t realize it then, but that was one of the biggest lessons I learned from my dad: the value of hard work. He woke up every day, prayed, then went to work to provide for our family.

I could count on one hand how many times my dad took off from work. Even if he didn’t feel well, he would get up and go to work without a complaint. He truly believed that if you worked hard and treated people with respect with the blessings of G-d, you would be happy in life.

My father was known for his generosity, work ethic, humility and selflessness. Everything he did was done with fear of G-d—from the crack of dawn when someone showed up at our door needing financial advice, to midnight conversations helping couples with problems to avoid divorce. He demonstrated these traits of goodness throughout his lifetime—qualities I aspire to.

My dad had some spectacular talents. His memory was amazing. His favorite area of learning was Mishnah and Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers). My brother would catch him nightly reciting Pirkei Avot by heart before bed.

He could perform a long series of arithmetical operations with six and seven digit numbers entirely in his head, in French no less. Particularly fond of Arabic music, he spent many hours listening to recordings he’d collected over the years.

He loved praying, singing and going to shul. Two weeks before he passed away we went to synagogue for Shavuot and Friday nights were filled with pizmonim after dinner. He loved all the Jewish holidays, especially Pesach. He enjoyed preparing the table for the seder according to the old Aleppo Haggadah and reciting the haggadah itself with his boys. The preparation for the holidays and the holidays themselves were spent together, building the succah, picking out lulab and etrog, ordering flowers for everyone in the family and preparing for the seder so everything was exactly as it should be.

Every Sunday morning growing up, he would make us his ful m’damas and during holidays, he would make his raw artichoke salad; we  looked forward to this all year long.

He showed strength, love and a strong belief in G-d until his last days with us. During the year that he was sick, he never complained once. When our brother David asked him why something like this was happening to him, he got very upset, pointed to the sky and said, “Who are we to question G-d’s will?” His faith in G-d made him accept everything with love.

He was not scared of moving on to the next chapter. In our last conversation, his eyes were closed and he was smiling. When I asked him where he was, he answered “I am in the sky.”

I hope that one day, when I’m with my father again, my children can look back, tell funny stories about me, and talk about how I loved them and their mother. Then, like my father, I will have led a complete life. I know that he is smiling down on us and praying for his family, his community and for all the Jewish people. Amen.
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Adam E. Esses is a community member.