Day 23

I cried a lot last night. The first time was during services. It was a special Shabbat celebration, so there were already more people than usual there. I ended up sitting in a section of chairs on the bimah with friends. At one point, Rabbi Stern asked everyone who brought a tallit to open it and, with the people around them, hold it over their heads like a canopy. It was a beautiful sea of tallitot. The cantors began singing Mi Sheiberach.

I haven’t been joining in during that part of the service but I tried to move past my reluctance and sing. I made it a few words in before the tears started coming out and all I could think was how much I wanted my mom at that moment. A friend came around and stood with me and a conversion student I’ve worked with held my hand through the rest of the song. My friend whispered to me that it took a long time for her to not hate Mi Shebeirach and I realized my reluctance to sing was because I do hate that song right now. I sang that song every time I could when Mom was sick and nothing ever got better and now I didn’t have her to think about during the song. It probably also doesn’t help that I have the memory of when Rabbi Kim sang that to my mom when she was in the hospital and Mom was soothed enough to fall asleep.

The second time I cried was when I was with another friend and we stepped into one of the art installations that are set up at Temple. The artist turned a corner of the atrium into a butterfly habitat of sorts. It took my breath away and all I could think was that Mom would have loved it and I told my friend this as my voice cracked. She just hugged me as I cried. I’m so sad that Mom isn’t here for me to share this with. I think she would have loved seeing the light show and art work commissioned for this weekend.

One comment

  1. I always cry with Mishe Beirach, rarely getting through it without tears…too many people in my life have left this world , but their life and spirits crowd my heart. I kept my eye on you and held you close, too. Happy our friend was standing with you. Your mom would have been proud of you! And she was there with you watching the art displays…

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