23 Weeks...the journey continues
Dear Friends,
We are reaching the time of year in the Jewish calendar where we have our selichot services and programs tomorrow night. On a Saturday night before Rosh Hashanah, our new year, we do penitential prayers and have an opportunity to do more intense soul searching in preparation for making the changes in our lives which we are hoping to make in the new year.
I have been told that between five and six months is an intense time in the mourning process and that one might have to cope with some more intense grief and the loss becomes even more real as one realizes that their loved one is not physically returning.
I am glad someone out there in cyberspace told me this because it is so real. As it turns out, I heard the following song by Joan Baez on satellite radio and well if one substitutes "Susie" for Jesse, you get the picture....(See below)
So this has become a very challenging week and I turned to a poem that was given to me by either my parents or one of my brothers (he may remember giving it to me and will let me know) when I was a child. After you read "If" (see below) and listen to the words of this song, I will comment about how these words have been inspiring to me. Please be patient with me this week because this nonlinear process of grieving has been intense and to those of you upon whom I have continued to lean on this week, I cannot adequately express my thanks to you. You have been true friends and have touched my heart by your caring and concern. I hope you will continue to accompany me as I try my damndest to walk through the valley of the shadow of death. I truly fear no evil because I know you are with me although the walk has been a limp this week..
As I listen to these lyrics I once again have been asking Sue to come back and realize that she never left my heart. Although as you will see when you read "IF" I have been holding on at times when there is nothing left except the will which says, "hold on."
“If” by Rudyard Kipling
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son! (please forgive the "Man" and feel free to substitute the Yiddish word, Mensch which means gentle person)
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son! (please forgive the "Man" and feel free to substitute the Yiddish word, Mensch which means gentle person)
So what has been the will which allows me to hold on? Sue and I filled the 'unforgiving minute with more than 60 seconds worth of distance run." and we lived life to its fullest. One of the many conversations we had with each other was to remind each other to "smell the roses." As we lived our lives we treasured our roses together and I was reminded this week that when one picks roses, one often gets scratched by thorns. In the Bible, G-d appears to Moses in a thorn bush to remind us that even when we experience great joy and Divine moments, we may get scratched. Sue's passing has scratched me and so many of us so deeply and yet, we must remember the sacredness of the love that blossomed and continues to blossom in those she touched.
So in another of these miracles that seem to be filling my life, due to some recent rain, the pink rose bush in our yard has blossomed again and despite the pain of missing her and wanting her to come home, perhaps she is home in our hearts. Pink roses were her favorite:-)
As we approach the new year if we are Jewish, and for the rest of us as we think of ways to remember Sue and have her come home, fill your life with 60 seconds of love and kindness and then it will be as if she never left.
I appreciate each and everyone of you for your support.
Shabbat shalom, Sabbath peace,
Rabbi Bruce Aft
Comments
Post a Comment