For years I have puzzled over what the “universe” is trying to
tell me, when every other year for the last six years, a family member (close
or more distant) dies on Tisha b’Av.
It’s a day when we remember all the tragedies that have happened to the
Jewish People. Was losing Ronni and
losing Allison that kind of tragedy? What is the significance of losing
Allison’s brother-in-law, Jonathan, on Tisha b’Av two years ago? Is it superstitious of me to be apprehensive, since this is another even-numbered year?
I have no answers to these questions.
There is still a deep sadness in me that wells up every summer
as these anniversaries pass. It lasts
for weeks and weeks, and comes in waves.
I don’t try to suppress the sadness, perhaps out of love and respect for
my first love and for my first child, or perhaps because it makes me feel
closer to them for a little while. I try
to honor them in little ways, and take the time to think about them. Memories
return, some of which make me laugh, and some make me weep. I will go to synagogue services this year on
Tisha b’Av because I feel I belong there.
All of this will temporarily overwhelm the happiness in the other parts
of what has become my life. It’s not
that I cannot feel joy or love, it’s that the tears blur those feelings. I remain deeply wounded and have not fully
healed. Perhaps I never will.
At Allison’s funeral four years ago, our friend Mair came up to
me and said, essentially, that she hoped that the “universe” would now stop
messing with us and leave us in peace. From
your mouth to G-d’s ear, Mair. Amen.
