Memory: A project realized

While blogging during my year of saying kaddish, I mentioned that I was engaged in a project to keep my mother's memory alive. (http://mykaddishyear.blogspot.com/2012/07/rememberence-project.html)  The idea, as I wrote then, was to put together some kind of book of her writings in time for her first Yahrzeit (anniversary of death). Obviously, now more than two years after she died, that aim was not realized. But I have been working on this project for the past twenty months or so. Slowly it has been taking shape. Among my tasks were to go through her writings, decide what was suitable and worthwhile to be published, edit writings that were in rough form, organize the writings into categories, find a publisher, go through family photographs and old slides, review proofs, and more. Through this process, my mother continued to speak to me, and I continued to learn from her.

If you have followed this blog, then I encourage you to order a copy of this book, which is entitled "Messages." All proceeds from the sale will go to Bridges to Israel, the organization she and my father founded to assist victims of terror and their families in Israel. While thank God the ongoing terror of 2001-2002 has abated, the medical, psychological and economic needs of the many victims continue. Every penny from the sale of "Messages" will go toward this goal while helping to preserve the memory of the remarkable woman that was my mother.

To order the book, email me at misterkessler15@gmail.com

Another visit

How much reality can a dream contain? Whether the dream I will relate is just a product of my inner thoughts or perhaps contains some aspect of metaphysical reality, I don't know. But its effect on me, as well as its lasting impact, was and always will be, real.

I dreamed that there was a knock on my door. I opened it, and in walked my mother. As is always the case when she appears in my dreams, which is not very often, I was quite surprised and overwhelmingly pleased. She looked alive and well, unlike the last few months of her life. All I recall is the following exchange we had. I told her I really enjoyed her visits. I asked her to visit me more often. I said, "I wish you would visit me every day." She responded, "I do."