Was the joy of taking my first child to the wedding canopy going to be marred by a tragedy?
That was my thought as I raced through the house looking for my uncle’s phone number. Outside the sun had not even risen but inside, our house was bright with a number of electrical lights. The phone call from my oldest son, in route from a business trip and waiting in JFK Airport, had plunged me and my husband into a frenzied panic.
“I can’t find Opa*. They’re boarding the flight to Israel. I’ve been to the Arrivals and no one will tell me anything. What should I do?”
Had my father suffered a heart attack? Maybe there’d been an accident on the way to the airport? My father was an organized, prompt, and considerate man. What could possibly make him miss the flight to his first grandson’s wedding? Would my uncle have any answers?