life
i dragged my feet in reflecting on the wedding, and life kept going. the mother of one of my oldest friends passed away last friday of complications from cancer. i cannot seem to quite wrap my mind around it. it is eternally unfair. two deaths have bookended the wedding, the first of a great aunt who was dearly loved, and had a good, long life and as much as can ever be, she almost seemed ready. this doesn't take any sting out of it for those left behind, but maybe a small hint of comfort in knowing that she got a good ride out of life. my friend is only 24, her mother no older than mine or any of my friends' parents. she was too young, my friend is too young, it is too cruel.
one thing that i keep thinking about since this has happened:
this is also my first experience with a non-jewish death, and it has made me so aware of how much sense the jewish grieving process makes, and how lost i was in dealing with one that didn't fit the pattern. in the jewish tradition, pretty much all control and responsibility is taken out of your hands, and your only job is to grieve. the funeral happens within the first day or two after the death. for a week, people in the community have the obligation of coming to visit the family in their home, bring them food, and show them support. you're not even really supposed to leave your house, shower, cook, nothing. when you are visiting someone who is grieving there are guidelines also. you don't ask them how they are doing, you don't even talk unless they want to talk, you just go and you provide whatever it is they need. i never realized how comforting these rules were until i was without them. now it's monday, we still dont know when the service is going to be, and it seems so rudely interrupted to go back to work, go back to normalcy, and then go back to grieving days later. my reflex was to go, get something for her and her family to eat, to go over there, to be with them. but i didn't know what to do. without the rules clearly laid out, i felt almost paralyzed for a moment, wanting to call, not wanting to intrude, wanting to know what was going on, not wanting to make things worse, wanting to go over there, not wanting to be a burden.
the other thing was not so much a thought, but a sound that keeps creeping into my mind. during my aunt's funeral, the time came when her children and my grandmother were to have their "garments" ripped, in this case a black ribbon that each was wearing. when the rabbi came to my grandmother, she uttered this, maybe it was a whimper, or a cry, or some terrible combination. in that single sound, i heard her broken heart at losing her sister. it was so simple, and so ... i heard the same thing in my friend's voice. it wasn't real until i brought myself to call her, and i heard that in her voice, and my heart broke for her. and we just cried together.
and all of this has made stronger a conviction i already had. the people in your life are what living is for. and that's what the wedding was all about.
one thing that i keep thinking about since this has happened:
this is also my first experience with a non-jewish death, and it has made me so aware of how much sense the jewish grieving process makes, and how lost i was in dealing with one that didn't fit the pattern. in the jewish tradition, pretty much all control and responsibility is taken out of your hands, and your only job is to grieve. the funeral happens within the first day or two after the death. for a week, people in the community have the obligation of coming to visit the family in their home, bring them food, and show them support. you're not even really supposed to leave your house, shower, cook, nothing. when you are visiting someone who is grieving there are guidelines also. you don't ask them how they are doing, you don't even talk unless they want to talk, you just go and you provide whatever it is they need. i never realized how comforting these rules were until i was without them. now it's monday, we still dont know when the service is going to be, and it seems so rudely interrupted to go back to work, go back to normalcy, and then go back to grieving days later. my reflex was to go, get something for her and her family to eat, to go over there, to be with them. but i didn't know what to do. without the rules clearly laid out, i felt almost paralyzed for a moment, wanting to call, not wanting to intrude, wanting to know what was going on, not wanting to make things worse, wanting to go over there, not wanting to be a burden.
the other thing was not so much a thought, but a sound that keeps creeping into my mind. during my aunt's funeral, the time came when her children and my grandmother were to have their "garments" ripped, in this case a black ribbon that each was wearing. when the rabbi came to my grandmother, she uttered this, maybe it was a whimper, or a cry, or some terrible combination. in that single sound, i heard her broken heart at losing her sister. it was so simple, and so ... i heard the same thing in my friend's voice. it wasn't real until i brought myself to call her, and i heard that in her voice, and my heart broke for her. and we just cried together.
and all of this has made stronger a conviction i already had. the people in your life are what living is for. and that's what the wedding was all about.