Dear Uncle Paul,
Yesterday we went to the Baltimore Aquarium and we saw these enormous Angelfish... I wanted to pick up the phone and call you. Instead I write to you here.
Celebrating your yortzeit today on the heels of your grandson, Zevi's, bar mitzvah feels like a rotten trick of fate. It's so wrong that you weren't here adding your joyful energy to the simcha.
But as my husband, Saleh, pointed out, one of the messages in the parsha Zevi read so beautifully is that there are some things we just don't understand and we're not meant to. It's been a heck of a year, and the one thing I can tell you is that your children are doing you proud.
Listening in shul to the praises heaped on Sarah for her contributions to the community - her hospitality and generosity - all I could think of is how I've heard grandma described the same way and how her legacy is passing down through you to your children and grandchildren. My mind's eye sees the progress of the generations, and the legacy that has been entrusted to me and my cousins and our children.
And questions rise in my mind: What can I say to my son about the people that I remember so vividly that he won't get to meet in person? How can I convey to him the words and actions that play in my mind and live close to my heart? Would that I could find a way to let him hear the voices first hand, see the smiles, the postures, the colors, the outfits... As the smallest example, I wish he could watch you tend your beautiful Angelfish and see the expressions on your face as you talk about your children and your garden and your own reflections and memories...
I know it's not realistic to make every day about our memories - forward thinking is essential to life and we can't let the living stop for the remembering. But there are times and places designated in Jewish tradition when we do recall the past for the sake of preserving our history and forging ahead equipped with the lessons we've learned from the people we've loved and lost. And today is one of those days and this is one of those places.
I miss you with my whole heart and I'm forever grateful for the special relationship we had. As I look to the future, I hope that my generation will be able to preserve the best of our memories and pass them on to our children and their children. And in doing so, we hope to make you - and all those who came before you - proud.
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I am an educator who is trained to reflect, not a rabbi or any type of halachic authority. These writings are in no way binding, and may not represent all approaches to and experiences in navigating grief. In fact, there will likely be those who disagree with me or can offer additional suggestions and reflections. For this reason, I am leaving the comments section open so that together as a community, we can broaden the scope of this blog to include a majority of human experience.
One important request: Please be respectful in posting your comments and be sure to frame your tips in the most positive phrasing possible. I reserve the right to delete any unkind comments and plan to update the original posts occasionally to include additional insights and reflections from our combined experience.