I’ve never written a eulogy before, so remembering my father with a few stories that captured my impressions of him as a daughter was a new and daunting experience.
I hope it painted a picture of a solid, hard working man with dreams and ambitions and a very strong devotion to his wife and daughters.
A Tribute to My Father
My father was a man of quiet strength, someone who spoke volumes through his actions rather than his words. Though not always demonstrative, his love and protection were constants in my life, deeply ingrained in my childhood memories.
I remember the day he took me for a bike ride as a toddler. He turned his head to say something to me, and a bee flew into his mouth. Without hesitation, he swallowed it, determined not to scare me or ruin our adventure. That was my father—taking life’s stings in stride, always putting me first.
There was another time when I was speeding down the driveway on my Big Wheel, completely unaware of the danger ahead. In a flash, my father grabbed the back of my overalls and pulled me to safety, just before I reached the street. His reflexes were as sharp as his instincts, always ready to protect me, even in the most ordinary moments.
His protective nature was evident in the way he would instinctively put his arm out in front of his passenger whenever he was driving, a habit born from a deep-seated desire to keep those he loved safe.
One of the most vivid memories I have is the day an entire bookshelf made of bricks and boards collapsed on top of me, trapping me inside my room. My father didn’t hesitate. He climbed up the outside of the house, ripped the window out of its frame, and pulled me to safety. In that moment, he was more than a father—he was my hero.
But my father wasn’t just a protector; he was a dreamer and a risk-taker. He had enormous ambition and a laser focus that drove him to achieve great things. He always believed in the power of dreams and the importance of taking risks, a belief that has shaped who I am today.
When I expressed my desire to attend a school that didn’t align with his religious beliefs, he and my mother made a choice that would define my future. They recognized that it was something I needed to prosper in my own life, and their support allowed me to build the family I have today. Together with my husband, Yossi, we have raised six remarkably smart, passionate, interesting, talented, and capable children. I know that my father was proud of his grandchildren and delighted in his great-grandchildren. All of us are his legacy, a legacy that far exceeds material wealth and power.
In 2018, my parents made the decision to move back to Winnipeg, and though it was difficult, it was a blessing. One of the most treasured memories I have from that time is hosting them for Shabbat dinners and watching my father take my mother’s hand when we sang “Aishet Chayil.” The first time I witnessed that, it brought tears to my eyes because, as I said, the Burstens are not a very outwardly affectionate family. It was touching and sweet.
When my father moved to the Simkin Centre, whose staff and caregivers I’m immensely grateful for, I visited regularly and attended c
oncerts with him. It was something he enjoyed a lot. And he knew the words to literally every song.
My father was a good man, devoted to his wife of 61 years. He taught me important lessons by example—lessons of strength, courage, and love. And though he is no longer with us, his memory will live on in our hearts and in the lives of those he touched. He will be deeply missed.
