One day in July of 1982, my father Eli Timoner ran six miles, led a meeting of a thousand employees, went in for his weekly massage, and left on a gurney. He was paralyzed and blind on the left side from an accidental stroke caused by the manipulation of his neck. He was 53 and running the fastest-growing airline in the world at that time, a start-up called Air Florida, which was flying to 17 countries and employed 3,000 people, though he had founded it only 10 years earlier.
COVID was especially tough for the elderly and disabled. My father became less and less steady on his feet and went on oxygen to help with the congestive heart failure he was developing in his old age. Still, he tried to walk on his own to the bathroom. Sometimes it would take 30 minutes, and he would not call my mom for help for fear of being more of a burden to her than he already was, so he would just collapse. Once he fell and hit his head and blood was trickling down his face.
Three weeks after my father died, we held a memorial service online. My sister Rachel, who is a rabbi, asked me to edit a five-minute piece, but one week later, I had a 32-minute video. I was so comforted in the edit bay as I got to experience his wit and wisdom, and witness all the love that was in that room—which was the most sacred space I have ever inhabited. I spent nights up with him and never stopped editing until a feature film emerged.
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