To All the Rosen Family & Friends,
Our deepest condolences on your loss. We will keep you in our thoughts and prayers.
Peace In Your Heart, Mind and Spirit - Always,
We are so very sorry to hear about the passing of Jeff. We so enjoyed the time we got to spend with him. We are all thinking of you and wishing you peace during this very difficult time.
Your BMT family
It is with profound sadness I extend to you my deepest sympathy for the loss of your beloved Jeff. He was much loved & utterly respected, he left a legacy of love, tolerance and peace. Your loss is enormous and no one can fill his place in your heart. I am so sorry, I just heard today though a colleague of mine Natalie & Carl. As I reflect back on the old & strong relationship between the Karaman & Houry families of Haifa, Palestine. Besides, your were a very dear friend to my mom ( Suad). Rest in peace our dear Jeff. May God give you peace and comfort. with my sincere love,
When I heard the sad news about the departure of Jeff, one of my favorite memories of him became very tangible. Some thirteen years ago or so, Huda and Jeff came to visit us in our new house. I think our kids had prepared a small show in their honor, and we were sitting in the basement, watching. I remember Jeff walking around the basement later, and stopping at the door of the laundry room. The light in the laundry room was off, and the door of the dryer was open a crack. “There's light inside your dryer,” he said, surprised. I wasn't sure what he meant, or why was that a surprising thing for him. Noticing my puzzlement he added, “I've never seen a dryer with light inside it before!” When, later, I told that to Rachel, my wife, she said Jeff was probably joking. But I'm not sure he was. There was a genuine, innocent surprise in his voice, and we both stood there watching that sliver of light in the dark room. Whenever I conjure up that moment, there's a sense of epiphany that surrounds it; a sense of pausing and reflecting on the most ordinary things in life, at the most unexpected moments, when small things like light glowing out of a dryer form an anchor point in our minds and memories and lives.
Now whenever I open the door of that dryer I remember Jeff, and I savor that moment, thirteen years ago. He will always be Jeff of Light for me, and I hope that when his life was slipping away, there was a sliver of light inside his heart, comforting him.
I told Huda this week that Jeff has always had a very special place in my heart, and Rachel's. We used to think of him as the kindest person we knew. His mere presence in my world, though we didn't see each other that often, was something so precious, so graceful, and so gracious that I always felt so grateful for. It's the kind of gratitude we feel at seeing the simplest, purest and most quintessential things: the first flower in our garden, the first smile of a baby, the scent of freshly baked bread. In Jeff's case it was all multiplied by 72, the number of years he lived. That's so short, so abrupt, so totally unfair, but let's count our small graces nonetheless, and celebrate what this painful loss did not and will never take away: the pure Grace of Jeff.
Go in peace, my dear friend.
Dear Huda and Family,
As you memorialize your husband and father, Jeff, today, I extend my deepest sympathy and prayers of comfort.
As a staff member of The Dispute Resolution Center, I had very little interaction with Jeff. However, the two significant conversations I had with Jeff, within the past year, at two of our events, were memorable and reflective of his kindness and gentleness. Consequently, we all have been blessed, and he will be missed by all whose lives he touched!