9, then 10, redux

Once again Friday evening in Berkeley at a service in someone's home. For mincha we had 9, thus no Kaddish. Then we begin Kabbalat Shabbat services using the beautiful melodies composed by Shlomo Carlebach. People are singing and slowly swaying and all I can think about is "no minyan." Others are feeling uplifted, myself oppressed.  For me, now, Kaddish comes before prayer. I must be able to declare my pain and loss publicly before I can think about communal prayer. Finally during L'cha Dodi the same person who came in last time entered. (See 1/29/12 post.)  A minyan. The anxiety I felt made me appreciate that in New York I don't have to worry whether there will be a minyan. For people in small towns saying Kaddish, the experience must be excruciating.