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.
Rabbi Stephen Karol's new book is based on his many years of helping congregants in mourning, which shaped and sharpened his perceptions of death and Jewish mourning tradition.
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?"