, a Margate man born with Down syndrome who was known for his warmth, humor and deep Jewish identity, died on Feb. 16 after three years of declining health. He was 60.){kind=link}
Ellen Braunstein
Jeffrey Charles Trocki (Yechiel Chaim), a Margate man born with Down syndrome who was known for his warmth, humor and deep Jewish identity, died on Feb. 16 after three years of declining health. He was 60.
At family celebrations — whether a bar mitzvah, a bris or a holiday gathering —Trocki made his way to the front. He wanted to see everything, to be part of it and to help if he could.
“His presence was the simcha,” his niece Cara Ozlek said.
That instinct carried into everyday life. At home and in the community, he looked for ways to help — opening doors, running errands and doing small tasks without being asked.
“If anybody asked him to do something, he would run at the opportunity,” his sister, Mona Trocki-Ozlek, said.
Born on March 19, 1965, he grew up in a home deeply rooted in Jewish tradition. His parents, Holocaust survivors from Vilna, established an Orthodox synagogue attached to their Margate home so the community would have a place to pray. Trocki and his three older siblings were raised in that environment. Jeffrey Trocki remained closely connected to it throughout his life.
“He went to everything my parents went to,” his brother, Dr. Ira Trocki, said. “Anything to do with the synagogue or commemorating people who were killed in the Holocaust, Jeffrey was there.”
His family said he did not see himself as deficient and often exceeded expectations placed on him.
“Jeffrey surpassed every limitation that society would put on someone with Down syndrome,” his niece said.
Jewish practice was part of his daily routine. He prayed each morning, wrapped tefillin and attended synagogue regularly on Shabbat and holidays. His family said his Judaism was not separate from his personality but expressed through it.
“His religion was his character,” Cara Ozlek said. “He was so proud to be Jewish.”
That pride was evident wherever he went. At Holy Spirit High School, he was among the few observant Jewish students. Rather than setting him apart, it became part of what people admired about him.
“When he graduated, he graduated most popular in class,” Ira Trocki said. “Classmates, even cheerleaders, used to fight to sit next to him at lunch because he was so much fun, and he made them feel so good.”
He attended Atlantic Community College for one year and later completed a culinary program in New York.
In his daily life, he had a way of making people feel noticed and valued, his family said. He greeted people warmly, often using Hebrew and Yiddish phrases, and recalled details about their lives.
“He remembered everyone’s birthday and everyone’s phone number,” his sister Trocki-Ozlek said. “That was one of his superpowers.”
He worked for many years in Trocki-Ozlek’s audiology practice, where he greeted patients, filed charts and helped with daily tasks. His being there became part of the office routine.
“People loved Jeffrey’s presence there,” his niece said. “He added to the experience.”
When he became ill and could no longer be there, patients noticed.
“They would say, ‘Where’s Jeffrey?’” Trocki-Ozlek said. “They were so upset when he wasn’t there.”
His kindness often took the form of small, immediate actions. He opened doors, ran errands and looked for ways to help without being asked.
“If anybody asked him to do something, he would run at the opportunity,” Trocki-Ozlek said.
He also brought humor to everyday interactions. Family members described him as playful and quick to make others laugh.
“He was silly, lighthearted, make-you-belly-laugh funny,” Cara Ozlek said.
He brought that same energy to professional wrestling, which he followed closely. He knew the personalities and storylines, and enjoyed watching matches and reading wrestler magazines. Taekwondo was another hobby. He trained for years and earned a black belt, an accomplishment his family said reflected his determination.
That focus carried into his religious life. At synagogue and at home, he helped lead Kiddush, followed rituals closely and prioritized prayer above other needs.
“You need me for the minyan? I don’t have to eat now. I’ll eat later,” Trocki-Ozlek remembered him saying. “And he loved to eat.”
Family members said his prayers carried a sincerity that others recognized.
“When he prayed, it went right to God because he was just a pure person,” Trocki-Ozlek said, recalling what someone told her.
“I would describe him as tahor — pure,” his brother-in-law Ron Ozlek said.
His impact extended beyond his immediate circle. After he died, people shared stories about how he had influenced their lives.
One woman who had gone to school with him told his brother that sitting with Trocki in the lunchroom helped decide her career.
“She said because of Jeffrey, she became a teacher of children with disabilities,” Trocki-Ozlek said.
His brother described his effect on others simply.
“He had no enemies,” Ira Trocki said. “He only had people who loved him, and he loved them.”
In his final years, Trocki experienced significant health challenges, including dementia and repeated hospitalizations. Even then, his family said, his demeanor remained the same.
“Even when he was suffering, he would smile,” his brother said. “He never complained.”
His absence is felt in everyday life.
“It’s a void,” Trocki-Ozlek said. “If you knew me, you knew my brother Jeffrey.”
His life was defined by how he treated others and how fully he engaged with his faith and community.
“He made everyone feel loved,” Cara Ozlek said. “There’s no one like him.”
Ellen Braunstein is a freelance writer.