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."
Through this blog, written during my year of saying kaddish for my mother, Hilda Yael Kessler, may her memory be for a blessing, I attempted to reflect on and find meaning about the internal as well as ritualistic processes of mourning. I hope others may identify with and find some measure of comfort in its words.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
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