My family knew Chaiya Drabkin as Amy, since we met 27 years ago when our son Noah wanted to learn to play the violin. She took him on and engaged his interest until he grew taller than she was, not a very hard accomplishment when your teacher is less than five feet tall!
Chaiya (Ami) Drabkin’s small size was deceptive. She was a powerhouse, some have said a force of nature. A talented musician, she taught piano, guitar, and violin to children and adults from her home, all while raising six children. She was also fluent in Spanish. Her music instruction was the first opportunity I had to see the passion she brought to everything she did. Always smiling and soft spoken, she prodded her students with stickers, hugs, and biannual community concerts. My husband, Bruce, and Joel Drabkin wore pink cummerbunds at one outdoor concert as Amy had them pass out drinks to attendees. Amy wanted everyone to enjoy the excitement of music as much as she did.
Her home was a haven of creativity and love. TV was banned, secular movies forbidden. In their place were backyard summer camps, crafts, cooking, and homemade productions, musical or theatrical. Her Shabbat table always had guests, some of whom made her house their second home. Years ago, she expanded her kitchen to better accommodate the huge meals she and her growing family prepared. She insisted on lots of windows to let in the light and decorated the walls with tiles of fish and animals, celebrating G-d’s creations. When our families joined together for the Pesach Seder at her house (following the engagement of our children Avi and Elana), the dining room walls were lined with ocean-themed prints as we symbolically trekked out of Egypt to freedom and enjoyed an umpteen-course meal. We were entertained by original songs and skits performed by her multitalented children.
Amy’s influence extended far beyond her home and musical talents. When a neighbor and friend became seriously ill several years ago, Amy created the nonprofit organization Gevuras Yarden/Jewish Caring Network. JCN visits homebound patients, bringing gifts of food and holiday items to show them that people are thinking of them. That wasn’t enough for Amy. She then raised money from local businesses and philanthropists to build the Tikva House next to Johns Hopkins Hospital in Downtown Baltimore. The Tikva House provides a fully furnished residence stocked with kosher food and toys where Jewish families can stay while their loved ones receive treatment at Hopkins. They can stay for Shabbos or for the duration of treatment if the family is from out of town.
Despite her diagnosis and extended bouts of pain, Amy continued to teach from home and at Bais Yaakov. She refused to give up when her doctors in Baltimore said they had no more to offer her. In her inimitable style, she insisted on pursuing every possibility, which included traveling to Alabama when a doctor in Birmingham said he might be able to put her in a trial there. Sadly, the journey put a lot of stress on her body and she never left the hospital. Her children, husband, and mother held a vigil at her bedside there for three weeks.
At her levaya, her son Eli spoke of his mother’s fierce determination both in life and in the face of death. She viewed each day as well as every person she met as a gift from Hashem. Even in pain during her final days, she made sure to say thank you to each member of the hospital staff, or if she hadn’t the strength, motioned for one of us to do so. Her chesed knew no bounds; she ignited the people of Baltimore with her passion for giving, which has now sparked Dallas, Texas, to start a JCN of its own.
All her children would affirm her motto: Don’t try; just do!!
It’s hard to believe that a woman who was only 52, with such energy and joie de vivre, who did so much for everyone around her, is no longer with us. Her passing leaves a gaping hole in her family and in the community. She leaves behind her husband, Joel, her parents, six wonderful children in whom she imbued a spirit of kindness and giving, four children-in-law – whom she refused to call “in-laws” but simply “her children” – and five grandchildren. It is painful to think that these children will not grow up with their grandmother, teaching them all sorts of wonderful skills and values and to see Hashem hiding in plain sight.
Amy took on her Hebrew name, Chaya, several years ago. During her illness, she added the “i” to her name. That “chai” now speaks more about the quality than the duration of her life.
On January 16, 2018, the Baltimore community said its final goodbyes to a true woman of valor.
