Sunday, April 29, 2012

just when you think there are no more tears . . .

Friday morning brought a sparkling sky.  I must have slept well as I was feeling more energetic than usual.  Perhaps the anti-depressants have kicked in.  As I got to the Amud (prayer stand), I noticed a ray of light entering the shul through the window.  Thoughts of my mother came flooding in.  She loved nature.  As a child, my parents took me to the forests of Canada, the mountains of the Sierras, the Redwood Coast and the Death Valley desert.  After I left home, they became world travelers. One of my favorite pictures of them is on top of a mountain in New Zealand.  They took my kids to the Rockies, Niagara Falls, and the Mohave Desert.  That morning, every kaddish I said brought tears, the light of her presence pressing close to me.

One thing I've learned about the mourning process: its path is neither linear nor predictable.  Most days you go about your business as if nothing much in your life has changed.  Then comes a day, sometimes just a few moments, when you again feel broken.  You never know when, or why.

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