Monday, April 5, 2010

Yizkor

It is not easy being a Jew – especially when dealing with death. First you have to bury the person right away – like within 24 hours. Then you have to sit Shiva for a week and after Shiva you are supposed to spend the first year as a mourner. A mourner in the sense that you don’t listen to live music, don’t attend parties and there are more but I just don’t remember. Before the first year is over you have to get a headstone and do an unveiling at the grave. Then there is Yizkor – where you light a candle four times a year in memory of your lost loved one.

Tonight is the first night of Yizkor for me. Just when I have been feeling stronger, just when I am trying to fight the sadness and the madness – now I have to light a candle and really think about him. As if I needed this.

As if the super fast funeral which I barely remember, or the week long Shiva where all I remember is too much food and too many people. As if constantly contemplating what is supposed to go on his headstone and the looks of sadness on my children’s faces wasn’t enough to make me think about him. But I am Jew so Yizkor it is.

I thought about doing it privately and not involving the children. Then I thought well maybe they should be a part of this. Maybe lighting four times a year will be a good time for us all to reflect and think about our loss. Are you done laughing at my stupidity? Because I am not.

During dinner I explained to the children about the lighting of the candle. My six year old said that four times a year wasn’t enough. We should light a candle four times a month. I said this is the way the Jews do it. He continued to argue his point. So I served dessert and figured there would be a little quiet and I would be able to focus and involve them as well.

As I lit the candle I told them I was going to pray and they could pray too or just send a message to daddy. I stood up and not really knowing what to do recited the Mourner’s Kaddish. I got half way through and just started to cry – not just cry - go hysterical. I put my hands over my face and tried to hold it together which only made me cry harder. I looked up, afraid that I was worrying them and said, we are going to be fine, really we – and then my six year old said, mommy you’re interrupting my praying. I looked over at him and watched as he was having an entire conversation, his mouth moving hands waving – but in total silence. My four year old also was praying but never stopped eating her dessert.

When I was finally able to finish the prayer I said a few words to my husband and at this point the six year old was in tears and came running into my arms crying. I hugged him and grabbed the four year old and we sat at the table for a while just crying and possibly remembering.

I almost asked my son if he still thought four times a month was a good idea – but I realize a six year old wouldn’t really pick up on my sarcasm.

I think in a way lighting the candle with them makes it more meaningful. I didn’t expect us not to cry and be upset – and at the very least they understood why I was crying. Then they watched me pull myself together and clean up after the meal – and all went back to normal – well our new normal anyway.

I put the children to bed and went on to tackle more packing. But instead I am sitting here writing, because tonight I just can’t do it. I feel him all around me and it just seems surreal that he is dead.

I found a scrapbook from our wedding and he looks so happy and alive in photos that it just doesn’t seem possible that all that occurred is really real.

I am trying so hard to not look back, but the longer I hold off the more painful it is when I do slip back down memory lane. I miss him so much and miss his laughter and miss every single thing that used to piss me off.

So like I said, it is really not easy being a Jew with a dead husband but I guess deep down it is just really not always so easy being me.

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