Rough Time of Year
Yahrtzeits are difficult. Every year on the anniversary of a close relative’s death, we light a memorial candle. The kaddish is recited in shul and it’s generally a day of reflection and remembrance. Everyone told me that with time, loss gets easier to bear. Some elements are less painful, but others are not. At the end of this Jewish month it will be 20 years since my father died. I was young and impressionable, I was hurting, I was confused. I am no longer so confused – but the pain of his loss is something that I have adjusted to, not something that has been minimized.
My grandparents and me at the brit of my second son, named for my father – their son.
Last summer I decided to write a book, the story of my life. What emerged after hours of painful soul-bearing, my words bleeding through the keyboard, was chapter upon chapter based on the loss of my father. Writing this book (yet to be finished) has been cathartic but oh so very painful. I had not realized until that point just how much his loss defined me, shaped me, turned me into the person I have become. He’s been gone for half my life now – how strange that feels.
I lost my father twice. When he left our family when I was a little girl, and again when he died when I was 19 – days away from turning 20. At 19 I knew him no better than I did at 3. There is so much room for wondering, and if onlys. I grew up without a strong male presence in my life – something that has affected me in very many ways. He was never around, and that was his choice. But it altered me. And sometimes I wonder if I would be different (better?) had he been part of my life, even up until the time he died. Wondering doesn’t get one very far. It is what it is. He is gone. I cannot change the past. I can just deal with it and learn from it and look forward, using the lessons of the past to improve my future.
My favourite pic of myself with my Savta.
It’s also been 12 years since I lost my beloved paternal grandmother – my Savta – she and I were so very close, and two days after my father’s yahrtzeit it will be 16 years since we lost his father, my much loved Saba. So much loss. Yet, so much love. My grandparents loved us so much. Being the only granddaughter (four grandsons) I was spoiled a little more than my brothers when we spent time with them in the summers. Every trip to stay with them turned into shopping expeditions – and they loved to show me off. (My brothers hated to shop. Their loss). But it was more than that. While we were with them, we were the center of their world. I treasure each and every memory that I have with them. I miss them, but feel so blessed to have had them in my life.
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Having lost my dad recently this post so resonated with me— I feel like there was so much left unsaid, and so many things I wish I could’ve done differently– I think this grieving is just a part of my everyday- I don’t think it ever goes away I think it just becomes another piece of what defines you. Sending you love and hugs!
Every time you post about your Dad, Melissa, I smile. You were so close to him, and I love that you had that closeness. While the pain of losing him will always be there, be thankful for the memories you do have. Hugs.
Did you ever learn from your Dad why he left you? I can never understand how a parent can do that. I can understand breaking off all contact with an ex spouse but not a child.
I know the whole story, but I never heard it from him.
I am so sorry for your sadness and hope that while the love will always remain the grief will subside a bit soon.
Thanks!
My wife always says that the first half of the year is very hard for her because of the five yahrzeits she observes: maternal grandmother (Cheshvan), maternal grandfather (Kislev), father (Kislev–first day of Chanukah), mother (Tevet), and bachelor uncle (Adar I).
To that list I add my paternal grandfather (Cheshvan), maternal grandfather (Asarah B’Tevet), mother (Adar II, one week after Purim), maternal grandmother (Av), paternal grandmother (Elul), and father (Erev Rosh Hashanah).
I light yahrzeit candles for all eleven, but I say Kaddish for her parents and my parents since my parents died. We are planning a trip to Pittsburgh in April to visit her parents’, grandparents’, and bachelor uncle’s graves. We may also visit the graves of some friends; one of them hosted us many times in Pittsburgh, somewhat of an adopted uncle. We are also planning a trip to Memphis later to visit my parents’ graves.
It is very difficult to think of them as gone a year and a half now. But I comfort myself with the thought that I would not have wanted them to suffer more than they had–my mother with aphasia from a ministroke and my father with dementia, which may have developed under the strain of trying to take the caregiver duties alone (although we also had a caregiver, he tried to take on a lot of the duties). I remember them as they were before the illness.
In Florida there is a man-made lake I can see from my patio, and there are all kinds of birds (flamingos or seagulls and ducks). My wife has sometimes said that whenever she sees some of the birds, it may be a metaphyisical visit from her parents, uncle, my parents, my grandmother, etc. I think this comforts her.
I suppose that your post triggered some things I had to express as well. Thanks for the post.
Loss is one of those things that no one teaches us how to deal with. We all cope in our own way. Sending you and your wife love and light.
Hadassah,
I will tell her.
My Dad died 18 years ago; my Mom died almost 16 years ago (her yahrzeit is in two months). I miss them and think of them every day.
Ronnie, my wife’s father died in 1978 and her mother died in 2000 (the bachelor uncle I talked about died in 1989). She still talks about how much she misses them and whether she was a good enough daughter while they were alive. I try to tell her that, at least metaphysically, they have forgiven her.
Her father died before she graduated college; her uncle lived with her mother and in many ways was a surrogate father to her. I think the biggest blow had to be her mother’s death, because at the time she would be alone. I think that is the reason that my wife thinks about her mother so much.
I think I know now how many of the people I grew up with feel when they lost a parent. My mother’s yahrzeit is a week after Purim and my father’s will be Erev Rosh Hashanah. We have now made arrangements to visit Memphis to see my parents’ graves (around my mother’s birthday in June, incidentally).
One of the trips we always want to make is Pittsburgh to visit the graves of my wife’s parents (and others). My wife is sometimes unhappy when we are not able to go there some years (and I have grown to feel the same way). I can see how she is comforted when she makes these trips.