Today is a sacred holiday for millions of people. I was one of those jewish kids who celebrated Christmas but not for the religious significance, it was more about assimilating into American culture for generations before me. Yet, now it has become a sacred day for me too. Not to honor the birth of Christ, but rather to honor a woman who was my creator and therefore the creator of our family. Three years ago today, she took her last breath as a tear seeped from her eye flooding into the river of tears that flow into eternity by a family. Last night, we gathered together on my bed to light a Yahrzeit candle, to remember and to celebrate her spirit. Some of my kids told us about a similar dream where they were hugging and embracing her, could smell and feel her, yet she was not responsive. What did that mean? Do they feel abandoned? I think it is to remind them that even though her presence is not here in a literal sense, that they are her and she is a part of them, therefore always within their embraces. I know that sounds good and makes me feel better. I also know that I wish I felt that was true within myself. I miss that physical presence more than I can put into words. But I also know, that as we gathered on my bed, our connections and collective remembering lit up the room as brightly as the candle that burned.
Her Story is Ours