She had tended me during my bad feelings. I had held her hand during hers. Her gift of language comforted me until the very end, even without being able to hear her voice. And now, I am left with memories.
I was 20 when I learned that my first love had committed suicide. His death shattered me, both mentally and emotionally – but it also saved my life. You see, in the months leading up to his suicide, I had been planning my own.
One Yom Kippur, a rabbi was warning his congregation about the fragility of life, and that everyone in the congregation will someday die. ... That is the great lesson and gift of this week’s parashah, B’reishit with its iconic tale of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.
I wrote this poem in honor of a dear man, a beloved pillar of my synagogue who died last week, thinking "after the words, after the music, after our very breath - what comes after that we can continue to praise God?"