KaddishJournal.com

Death.
Loss.
Mourning.

I am a young widow.

I kept trying to remember the wonderful when I felt surrounded by sadness. And pain. Not so easy but I have learned that time is truly the great healer. Death has been part of my life since I was a little girl—even before I had vivid memory. My mother died when I was 18 months old. My father died when I was 26 years old. My husband, Norman, who was my best friend; confidant, lover, teacher and father of our two delicious sons left us suddenly 3 years ago this May. And on January 1, 2008, his father left us all as well.

Death.
Loss.
Mourning.

This too shall pass.

Remember to spend some time with your loved ones, because they are not going to be with you forever. Remember, say a loving word to someone who looks up to you in awe. Remember, to give a warm hug to the one next to you, because that is the only treasure you can give with your heart and it doesn’t cost a cent. Remember to say, “I love you” to your partner and your loved ones, but most of all mean it. Do not speak harshly to each other. A kiss and an embrace will mend hurt when it comes from deep inside of you. Never wait until the morning, because mornings do not always come. Do not fight in front of your children. Take care of your elder parents. Do kind things for no reason. And say I Love you every single day. No matter what.

The sun shines again. And my memories sustain me.

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Tonight is Mom’s first Yartzeit, the anniversary, by the Hebrew calendar, of her death. It seems surreal to write that.

The past few days I have spent several hours in the car. To pass the time I call friends and family. I talked to my brother, sister, and Dad. But not Mom. It seemed odd, even after a year of saying kaddish.

Now that it has been a month since I was saying kaddish everyday, her passing does not seem as real. The mourning period is over and though while I was going through it, it seemed natural, now that it is over, it does not. I’m no longer confronted everyday by the fact that she is gone. And so when it seems natural that I should call, its a bot of a shock that I cannot.

And so there is life after after death. We the living continue to live after the death of our loved ones. But what to do with a blog about kaddish, about mourning, and about teh Jewish rituals surrounding them?

Before I started to write, i thought it might be interesting to continue the blog talking about Jewish life in general, possibly focusing on rituals or even expanding it to including Jewish communal issues. But as I write, an idea just came to me which seems a natural for a domain and blog entitled KaddishJournal.com.

I started this blog not only to chronicle my year of mourning, but as a tribute to my Mom. I am not the first Jew to lose his mother or a loved one, and I won’t be the last. It is part of life. I hoped that my kaddish journal might stand not only as memorial, but might help others through the difficult times they encounter. How much the more so if this “journal” were to include writings and experiences from others.

The next month or two will be very hectic as I launch a new business and travel to Israel for 2 weeks. During that time or after it, I am going to approach others to write short essays, short stories, and articles short enough to be blog posts. Instead of my journal, this will become a community journal in which anyone who wants to share their experience and their wisdom will be able to do so.

I can’t think of a better tribute to my Mom than a community resource for people to share their experiences and for people in need to gain strength from the wisdom of others. Mom was a pillar. A strong woman. May this stand and become a pillar of strength for all those who need it. I miss you Mom.

love,
Joshua

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11 Months by the Hebrew calendar. Everyday the boy who lost his mother said Kaddish. Sometimes it meant driving 45 minutes to find 10 Jews holding a minyan. With a girlfriend living in Greenfield, MA, I made the drive many a day down to Springfield.

Up at 6:15 to make it to minyan by 7:00. Get there at 7:06 and I missed the first two recitations of Kaddish. Not an easy task with a 6 year old and a 9 year old. Many a day we arrived at 7:05 in between the first two.

And there were probably 7 or 8 days when I just didn’t make it. No local minyan, or worse yet, the day I went to a shul and only 8 people came for services. No minyan, no kaddish.

When we say the mourner’s kaddish, we stand before the community and praise God. In doing so we teach ourselves and we remind the community that throughout the life cycle there are opportunities for joy and sadness, and God is part of every part of our lives. And if there is no minyan to represent the community, then the lesson goes unsaid.

They say the end is as hard as the beginning. It isn’t, but it is hard. This evening I will stand for the last time and say Kaddish at Minch and then i will sit. When we say kaddish at Maariv, immediately following Mincha, I will join those who remain seated and respond to the mourners among us. Once again, I’m a normal member of the community.

But during these 11 months, I’ve prayed in minyans at many places. And those who attend minyan daily, in each of those cities, I’ve discovered are a special group of people. Day in and day out they go to shul to talk to God, and some even go just to talk to each other. But the daily minyan is the heart of the community.

These are the people who show up at your house for shiva and they are in shul when you need a minyan. They are not people who tell you, “if there is anything I can do….” These are the people who do what needs to be done and they do so without asking and without telling because they know it needs to be done and too many people have not a clue what it is.

It is an honor to daven with them. I look forward to continuing to join them.

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