Passover is a little more than two weeks away, and I am overwhelmingly sad about Mom’s inability to participate in the Seder. I’m thinking of suggesting she stay home this year with her caregiver. What with many guests, a late dinner, and an even later bedtime, I’m not sure she’ll be able to navigate the social and religious challenges this evening brings. I will miss her haunting rendition of Ha Lachma Anya, the Aramaic declaration that begins the maggid or narrative section

“Do you think we made Savta happy?” I asked my daughter, Liora, as we were returning from Netanya. (Savta is the Hebrew word for grandmother.) Liora came with me today ostensibly to shop but rain washed out those plans. Instead, she spent time talking with her grandparents. “It’s hard to say,” she replied. “Savta’s moods change so quickly. One minute she’s singing in the middle of the street—just like the movies. Then she says something that doesn’t make sense or she gets ang