Sunday, May 29, 2016

11 months have passed

Saying Kaddish every day for 11 months was extremely hard. It was hard to go and do it and it was hard when I couldn't and I missed it

I am relieved that this stage of mourning is over, although a year has not passed and in every other way I am still in official mourning according to Jewish tradition--and will be in personal mourning I am sure for some time.

But I am also doing much better. To honor my father's memory and officially conclude 11 months of saying Kaddish I organized a service at my apartment for Friday night. I had 16 friends over and I led the Mincha service in my father's honor. We then had a musical Kabalat Shabbat that my father would have loved and Eitan led Maariv--for the first time since his Bar Mitzvah.

It was really beautiful and a meaningful way to conclude this stage.

Below is the short speech I gave after Mincha.

My siblings and I talk about how eloquent of a storyteller my father was and how he was able to help us to know the family we never got to meet in intimate and beautiful ways.
My father lost his own father when he was just a little older than I am now, and that same year, one of his best friends - my mother’s brother.  Through my father’s stories I felt I knew these two men and learned from them - without ever meeting them.

My father would talk about his childhood and make it come to life for us. My cousins all loved speaking with my father and hearing about their own fathers. He was so adept at connecting with people and helping them connect to their own stories or find their own stories.

I myself am not a storyteller- but what I am is a feeler - I feel very deeply and I hope by sharing my feelings with you I can provide insight into who my father was.

I always felt special and important - because my father made sure to make me feel that way. If I was learning something he didn’t know he would learn it too - so he could understand it and support it. My father did not grow up observant and for his own Bar Mitzvah he just memorized the service - but for my brother’s Bar Mitzvah he learned the trope so he could help him practice and then he read from the Torah for the first time that year as well. When I joined the volleyball team he learned to play volleyball, when I was learning Navi in school - he read the entire Navi that year. He was always learning and engaging in the things that interested us and therefore interested him.

My father was also very competitive but not just at things he was good at- he would learn it and become good at it. My sisters and I are ridiculously good at SET - it's a card game. My father was not that good at it --- at first, but then he spent time playing on his own so he could compete with us - ties still “always go to the father.” but he was good enough to play with us. He also was a good sport - he taught us how to compete but then how to win and lose graciously.

My father did not go to Jewish day school but he was always thirsting to learn more and in his honor I thought I would share some simple words of Torah.


The tradition of saying Kaddish began after the tradition for male mourners to lead a service. The leading of a service was a way to honor one’s parent after their passing and it is encouraged that even for someone who does not know how to lead to learn to lead during the year of mourning. The Kaddish Yatom was began for younger sons and daughters who were not yet Bar Mitzvahed to have an outlet and a way to connect with their parent. I have felt connected to Kaddish this year for this reason but because my father was a lifelong learner I wanted to learn and do something new in his honor. I have a led a service once before but this was my first time leading mincha. I am honored you all came and appreciate your presence.

I am so thankful when I look around and recognize that most of the people here are people I met this year. You all chose to be my friend during the most painful and challenging time in my life. During a time when my social skills have been minimal or non-existent - when my emotions are always at the tipping point. I have seen myself become angry when I had no reason or right or sad when it is uncomfortable or hard and the people here have sat with that and accepted it.

I appreciate and thank those of you here who have been my friend before my father passed of course as well - those of you who knew the connection I had with him and have supported and understood my grief in unique ways.

I thank my Eitan. I have never formally thanked Eitan in public and he completely deserves public recognition. Eitan has endured and supported a lot this year. He has held me while I cried so hard it was hard to breath, he understood and ignored anger from me that was unprovoked and undeserving, he helped me succeed in graduate school by reading my papers when I felt I just could not think anymore, made my lunches when I was extra busy and made most of our shabbat meals this year.

I also never formally thanked my Eitan for how he supported and understood my family. During shiva Eitan must have taken out the garbage at least ten times each day, brought my mother and my siblings and I water every hour - just to make sure we were drinking enough, and was there when he needed and wanted him and away when we needed to just be us. He lifted me up this year and has been patient while I have healed. He reminds me of my father - who my mother said never got to fully mourn the loss of his best friend because he held her while she mourned her brother.

I will always look back and hate this past year and a half -- I will think of it as the year my father got sick without warning and for no reason and as the year I had to learn to be an adult without the support of my father. But I will also look back and love and appreciate this year - I got engaged this year to the love my life and I got a new niece and nephew and  I met all of you and for that I am so thankful.

Shabbat Shalom

Saturday, March 5, 2016

Yitgadal V'Yitgadash...

Until a person has said Kaddish it is incomprehensible what it means to publicly mourn for a loved one. Depending on, and being held and comforted by a community, is important and also frustrating.

Since I have begun this meditative journey of honoring my father once daily in the form of asking for his neshama to have an aliyah, I have experienced comfort, sadness, anger, embarrassment, and shame.

Taking a moment every day to honor this man who was my guiding light for so long supports my healing in a profound and deep way. Quietly saying, or when I am feeling strong, loudly asserting - yitgadal... allows me to feel connected with my father. I am given a moment where I can quietly speak with my father and tell him "I am thinking about you - and I remembering".

It is during this time - I also feel deeply sad. I feel deeply sad about how young I am and reflect on everything my father is missing. I think about my plans for my wedding and what it will mean that he wont be there - to walk me down the aisle, give me a bracha during the cocktail hour, and have one simple dance with me. I get sad when I look around the synagogue and see the other three young people saying Kaddish with me. Four of us - under 35 saying Kaddish for a parent - who died much, much too young.

I get angry at the lack of respect. I feel red-hot anger when I open my mouth to say Kaddish and the women sitting directly behind me in synagogue cannot pause their conversation to support me and honor my father along with me. I feel embarrassed and ashamed that in an orthodox and learned community I am not granted the quiet of 30 seconds to meditate in peace. I reflect on other spaces I say Kaddish on a weekly basis. At the ARK - where I work - the clients who pray with me - despite the infinite challenges in their lives and their cognitive impairments and emotional struggles - they offer so much more respect - than the three women sitting behind me in shul - who must finish their conversation about makeup and restaurants.

I feel my own shame - when I miss a service - when I am too tired - too busy - or simply too sad - to walk over to shul on a Monday at 9PM. Or ashamed when I know I have already prayed but I get "reminded" to attend services.

Mourning is so incredibly personal - but Jewish tradition - demands we also mourn in public ways - acknowledging our pain for our communities. I frequently cry through the words of Kaddish - or choke on a sentence.

But I also feel held and comforted by my community and by saying my words with those around me who understand and are also mourning their loved ones.

But right here - I implore those reading - be quiet when someone is saying Kaddish - listen when someone is chanting those words - and remember the person saying them is in deep pain and they feel - a lot - every minute of the day - not just during those words - but on the walk over to shul - while they laugh and drink a beer with a friend - or even as the cuddle and hug their baby - those of us saying Kaddish are morning - and so during those 30 seconds embrace us - hold us and honor our need to meditate and honor the person we have lost.