La Mesa, CA (special) -- One of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life was the one when Rabbi Aaron Gold’s life came to a peaceful end on the morning of June 13. Along with his wife Jeanne, my wife Nancy, Aaron’s daughter Claudia, Jeanne’s niece Heather, the Golds’ good friends Yehuda and Ginnie Shabatay and Cantor Alisa Pomerantz-Boro, I was in his Grossmont Hospital room the moment he passed.

Although I have seen death before, this was a unique moment. Rabbi Gold had a heart attack two days before which had left him in a coma, and probably with major brain damage.  In the hospital, he had a seizure episode which persuaded Jeanne and Claudia that there was little likelihood he could recover.  At age 81, suffering from lung cancer, and Alzheimer’s Disease, and now comatose, Rabbi Gold apparently never again would be able to breathe on his own, much less have a high quality of life.  In consultation with Rabbi Leonard Rosenthal, and the doctors, Jeanne and Claudia decided that no further extraordinary measures should be taken to prolong the rabbi’s life.

Rabbi Gold always loved the Chasidic melodies his father had taught him.   Told it was possible that even in a coma, her husband could hear--that “the hearing is the last thing to go”--Jeanne brought from their La Mesa home a tape recorder and a favorite cassette of Jewish music and played it softly by his bedside.  She sat on the bed next to him, at times swaying his limp hand in hers in rhythm to the beloved melodies.  

During their 26 years of marriage, they used to play a game with each other.  “What am I going to do with you, Aaron?” she would ask teasingly.   “You’re going to love me,” he would reply playfully.  Now she asked again, “What am I going to do with you, Aaron?”   But there was no reply--only the memory of the  instructions he had given her while they were fighting his cancer. Yes, he wanted to live, but only so long as there could be a good quality of life.

Now the rabbi was completely unresponsive.  The hospital staff gently asked for instructions.  Should they continue keeping him on a respirator?  The rabbi’s wife and daughter, having already agonized about this moment, replied with resolve that the respirator could be unhooked, but not until appropriate prayers were said.  Ordinarily, these prayers would have been led by Rabbi Rosenthal, who is Gold’s successor at Tifereth Israel Synagogue, but ironically Rosenthal was in Los Angeles presiding over a conversion ceremony at the University of Judaism.  

Why at the University of Judaism?  That is what is so ironic.  There is no mikvah for Conservative conversions in San Diego.  When Tifereth Israel was building its new building above Cowles Mountain Boulevard, Gold had pleaded that a mikvah be included in the design.  But the idea was vetoed by board members who believed an on-site mikvah might make the synagogue seem “too Orthodox.”  For lack of a mikvah, there was on this final day a lack of a rabbi.

In these circumstances, Cantor Alisa Pomerantz-Boro was invited to the hospital to lead the final prayers.  Having her to officiate was sentimentally pleasing not only because Rabbi Gold had helped to install her as cantor at Tifereth Israel Synagogue, but also because throughout his career he had been in the forefront of the movement to accept women in every Jewish role.  

Instead of getting right down to the prayers, Cantor Pomerantz-Boro shared with the family her affection for Rabbi Gold.  At Jeanne’s urging, she softly performed for her synagogue’s rabbi emeritus a special bedside concert of tunes that he loved, not forgetting a song in English--one he once had made a point of requesting her to sing--”The Rose” popularized by Bette Midler.

The Shabatays came into the hospital room, at first not knowing what was afoot.   They and the Golds had known each other for years, but their friendship had deepened after Rabbi Gold became the spiritual leader of Congregation Ner Tamid in Rancho Bernardo, one of three congregations he served after completing 18 years with Tifereth Israel Synagogue.  A well-known Jewish educator, Shabatay and Gold enjoyed discussions on a wide array of topics.   I shall not forget how the tears sprung immediately to Shabatay’s eyes when he realized that we were in the process of saying our goodbyes.

When Jeanne and Claudia signalled they were ready, Cantor Pomerantz-Boro intoned a prayer that is said over the gravely ill.  As nurses prepared to turn off the respirator, we individually leaned over the rabbi to say our personal goodbyes.  Then we all said the shm’a in unison, professing for the Rabbi what he could not say for himself: Shm’a Yisrael Adonoi Eloheinu Adonoi Echad -- Hear Oh Israel the Lord Our God, the Lord is One!

After deactivating the respirator, a nurse listened to the Rabbi’s chest through a stethoscope.  The Rabbi was not breathing, though the pacemaker that had regulated his heart continued to beat for a while.  As we continued with the shm’a--softly chanting it to a popular, upbeat melody which Rabbi Gold always loved--one nurse stood at the monitor and another continued to  listen with her stethoscope.   

Soon they confirmed what we already knew in our hearts: Rabbi Aaron Shalom Gold, who during a lifetime in the rabbinate had served ten congregations across the United States, had died so quietly, so peacefully, and amid such love that none of us shall ever forget the moment.  

And just as assuredly, we shall never forget him.