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My Father, Ben, was born in Alberta, Canada.
He was an only child; the pride and joy of his immigrant parents, Edith and Jack.
When my father was just 2 years old, his father passed away after catching pneumonia while fixing his car in the freezing Edmonton winter.
My grandmother, Edith, gave my father the very best childhood, even taking him to sunny LA for the winter to skip the cold winters of Canada.
After joining the Canadian army, my father went to McMaster University in Hamilton.
After starting off in medicine, he switched to chemistry, and received his PhD in the early 70's.
He would often frequent the Chabad in Hamilton.
When my father was in his early 20's, his mother died from cancer. My father was heartbroken.
He bought a BMW sports motorcycle, (which he says was the very best), and had some of greatest memories riding across the PCH, and over the Golden Gate Bridge.
My father was a brilliant man. His main field was inorganic chemistry and specifically the xenon compound.
He even named his dog Xenon.
Till this day, his discoveries and writing in chemistry are often quoted in chemistry books and magazines.
He played music, specifically blues and jazz like no one else.
He wrote beautiful poems too.
He worked at labs, leading many experiments.
One big experiment was in South Carolina, where he would frequent the local Chabad.
Due to a colleague's experiment that went badly, my father decided to leave the labs.
He moved back to Vancouver and worked as a city bus driver.
Around the same time, Chabad established their first center in Vancouver.
When the Rabbi - beginning the Vancouver Chabad - asked the Rebbe for advice on where to start their Chabad synagogue, the Rebbe circled the intersection of Oak & 41st on a map, which was across the street from the bus yard where my father worked.
When he wanted to say Kaddish for his mother's Yahrzeit, he was surprised to see a sign for Chabad and went in to say Kaddish.
He was hooked.
He started studying Chassidus, feeling a sense of comfort and belonging, he immersed in the text.
He would always tell me that studying a page of Talmud was more fulfilling and challenging than the study for his PhD.
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He met the Rebbe in New York on several occasions.
One of the greatest moments of his life was when he received a blessing and a book of the Tanya from the Rebbe, in honor of the Rebbe's 80th birthday in April 1982.
(Just 2 years ago, he gave me this book, which was his most prized possession.)
He met my mother, Miriam, within a week of that blessing.
A year later, my sister Tanya was born.
A year after that, my sister Chanie was born,
18 months later I was born.
My parents divorced when I was just one.
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I was my father's only son. From day one, and as I continued to grow up, my father was so proud of me.
By my Bar Mitzvah, when I was ordained to be a Rabbi and when I got married to Adina, my father was there to celebrate the occasions.
When his first grandchild, my daughter, Hadassa, was born, 11 years ago, his joy knew no bounds.
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He would always inquire about our community and our growth.
He was inspired that his Judaism was put on track by Chabad throughout his life and that now his son is doing that work.
He was very proud that the same roads/bridge he rode a motorcycle on is now where his son leads a community.
When I couldn't get through to my father on the phone last night, who I would always call while doing the post-Shabbat dishes, I got worried and asked the local Chabad Rabbi to go visit him.
The police/first responders arrived and saw that he had passed away from a heart attack.
His involvement with Chabad put him on his path to Judaism, and on his final day, a Chabad Rabbi was there to check on him.
As we speak, his body is being prepared for burial, where another Chabad Rabbi is seeing off his casket at the airport.
He leaves behind his 3 children and 10 grandchildren.
He was 78.
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