I'm ashamed to say that I can hardly remember his face, having seen him only once in the last thirteen years. Still, I know of him. I remember his words and his legacy, if not his appearance. It is always telling when a man has a legacy before he is gone from this world, and Doctor Feldman was one of those men. He was a hero. There is no other word for him. Perhaps he didn't run into burning buildings, but even with my extremely limited knowledge of his life, I can tell you specifically of five lives he saved. It is uncountable, unknowable how many lives he saved in the end.
When my older sister died, it was the day after my third birthday. It was Doctor Feldman who coached me through that time, stopping a vulnerable, distraught toddler from falling into a pit of despair that she would've never been able to escape. If it weren't for him, I might've crushed myself under the guilt of what had happened. It was my birthday, my celebration that resulted in her disappearing from before our eyes. I could've easily decided to bear that weight, but I didn't. Because Doctor Feldman got through to me when no one else could, I didn't ruin my own future, and really, what is a life if not a future?
Another family, one with which I'm close enough to call my own, had a similar tragedy years ago. A child died, but two children were left behind. Both parents were overcome with grief, but the mother was hit especially hard. Her darling was gone. Her baby. Her love. Her sky. Her world. Her everything. She wanted to die. She was ready to die. Doctor Feldman convinced her not to, and in the process he saved the lives of a mother, a father, a little boy, and a little girl. He taught them -- all of them -- how to go on living. Now, that mother has taken it upon herself to speak with innumerable strangers when the tragedy of death strikes, helping them along through a time of need whether she knew them previously or not. She tells them, as she tells me, "Pass it forward."
If there is one thing for which I am grateful, it is that he saw the longterm affects of his work in me. Years after his initial appearance in my life, he showed up again. This time, we were at a meeting for JCURE. We arrived early and at exactly the same time, so we explored the hallways together until we discovered the room in which we were supposed to meet. He questioned me on our organization, and I answered as thoroughly and enthusiastically as I could. I'm told that he talked about me later that night, surprised and delighted by my involvement. Only later did I find out that the kind, smart man I met that night was also the man that saved my life, and I believe it was only later that he found out the mostly mature, mostly intelligent young woman he met was me.
Months later, my mother and I were on a plane to North Carolina. We landed. We stood. My mother's phone powered on. And we got the news that Doctor Feldman had passed away in one of North Carolina's hospitals. If I believed in God, and I know many of you do, then I could hardly deny this was his work. Just imagine. I was there to view colleges. To secure my future. Need I say more?
Doctor Feldman is a man with a legacy. He lives on. Not only in the souls of his family or the hearts of his friends and coworkers. Not only in the memories he has left behind or even the deeds he has done. Every life he saved brings forth a touch of him to the world. Every life I touch and every life that follows from there will contain a bit of his essence because Doctor Feldman started this chain reaction of kindness and life that continues to ripple through the masses.
It is a small world, but Doctor Feldman is a big presence. He always will be.
"Pass it forward."
(Image Courtesy of the Miami Herald)
In Loving Memory of Dr. Samuel Abraham Feldman
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