Page 403 - WhyAsInY

Portrait of a (first) MarriaGe
tried to reassure us with that diagnosis. We wanted to believe that ver- sion of the event, but it was, as you would understand, small comfort.
Harry was in shock, as was Phyllis, who first froze on the steps and then rushed to her father. I had no time to be in shock at first. Somehow, I got them to the couch, brought Laura in, found water for them, and spoke to the trooper. Our children were at home, but I have no recollec- tion of when, how, or by whom they were told. I do have an image of at least two of them also standing on the staircase when Harry came crash- ing through the door, knowing that something was terribly wrong, but quiet and uncomprehending.
There was no comforting Phyllis or Harry. I, who loved Sylvia, was shocked, in disbelief, and totally unprepared but quick, I think, to rec- ognize that the only way for me to deal with things was for me to deal with things. Somehow, I had to take charge. I believe that I called Arthur, Michael (who was recently separated from Susan and reeling from that even before I conveyed the news), and, of course, Rabbi Turetsky, the Sabbath notwithstanding. I think that the family gathered at our house that night, but I’m not sure. I know that Rabbi Turetsky came over to join us. I called Rabbi Margolies in Kansas City and Rabbi Letterman in Manhattan Beach. I called Riverside Memorial Chapel to arrange for the funeral and reserve its largest space and at least four limousines to accompany the hearse. Harry stayed with us. As Phyllis and I retired for the night, Phyllis was shaking uncontrollably in the bed for what seemed like hours; I’m not sure that either of us slept.
The next day it fell to me to go to Sutton Place with Harry to get Sylvia’s address book and call every friend whose number was listed in it. As often as not, when I started to convey the shocking news, the per- son on the other end automatically assumed that Harry, not Sylvia, had died. In some order, I also went to the state trooper’s headquarters near Katonah to get the police report; identified Sylvia (she was the first decedent whom I had ever seen); saw the Cadillac, beyond repair, in White Plains; and, at Harry’s insistence, retrieved Sylvia’s white mink coat, which I could see could never be worn again.
• 385 •