Author: Eve Posen

Alligator Tears

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Here I am, back in Chicago, ready to spend my summer making the world better, and my tears are the big droplets, like the raindrops that fell on my head in the storm this morning. They come and go, they are strong, steady, filled with rage, sadness, uncertainty. My life is full of uncertainty, what will happen next? I thought I had it all planned out, thought I knew, and last summer, my life flipped upside down, everything changed, my plan was called into question, my mind forced to go places it never wanted to go, my heart torn clean in two.
And then, i started to heal, started the long, tedious process of stitching my heart back together, of building a new plan, a plan with purpose and meaning, a plan that would fulfill me, a plan that would make my dad and my family proud. A plan i could fulfill. And life went on. I was surprised on the journey, on how strong I could be on the outside and how weak i feel on the inside. I was surprised by how much i could love, how trusting i could be, and scared at the what ifs of love. Excited by what was coming and hurt by indecision and waiting.
I finished my masters, i finished a stage in my plan, and now, my plan is back at zero, I don’t’ know where i’m going. I am back where I started last summer, my heart’s a little healed, but my foundation is shaky, and I am TERRIFIED of the uncertain future ahead of me. and so, I’ll cry, big alligator tears, they flow from my inner being, filling pools with my innocent tears, tears of fear, love, uncertainty, sadness, happiness, pain, guilt, a flood of anxiety over a bright future with too much uncertainty.

Days Gone By

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I haven’t written in a while, partly because of the craziness that comes with graduation (yes, I completed the course work towards my Masters of Arts in Education) and part of it has to do with the numbness I have been feeling towards the world. I guess at this moment, I’m 9, nearly 10 months through the mourning process, and some days I still feel like I did at the beginning, missing him, them more and each day. And some times, i forget it happened, for that brief moment, my life is as I felt it should be, happy, fulfilled, loving every minute. And then something happens, and I want to call them so badly.
A year ago, I stood, ready to receive the Torah, to stand at the mountain for Shavuot a different person. I stood, less strong, more unsure of myself, now i stand, unsure, but strong.
Now I stand, hurting in my very core, craving normalcy, routine, as I did a year ago. I stand here, waiting for the Torah, for direction in my life, for a 5 year plan. I hurt at my core for my family, for those lost in the last year, conversations never had, conversations that can’t be had now, that can’t ever be had again.

Three of a Kind

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This morning, I went to minyan with a friend who had Yahrtzeit for her mother. It also turns out that another friend has Yahrtzeit for her mother today as well. Normally, in the minyan at school, I am the single voice during the Kaddish. When I go home, I am one of many, mostly older individuals saying Kaddish. Today, was the first time I was one of three, women, around the same age, saying Kaddish together. I didn’t have my usual, uncomfortable reaction to saying the Kaddish, I wasn’t alone. I felt empowered and connected. It isn’t that I don’t feel anything when I say Kaddish alone, it’s just that saying it, with the voices of three women, my age who have made it through this experience and come out on top, brought me a sense of comfort I have not yet felt in my year of saying Kaddish. Today, nobody stared at me, no one looked to see why I was saying Kaddish so young. No one heard my single voice. Today, I felt connected, strengthened by the presence of these two wonderful women.

On the Brink – Pesach 5768

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on-the-brink-pesach.JPG

Here is the d’var Torah I gave on Friday night at my shul in Farmington Hills, MI. 

Picture this: you’re tired, your feet hurt from standing, walking, waiting. You rushed to get all the cooking done, exhaustion begins to take over, the journey is beginning. For some of you, this might sound like I’m talking about last Friday as you rushed to finish up the preparation for Passover. As tradition has it, tonight, the end of the sixth, beginning of the seventh day of Pesach is the time when the Israelites crossed the Red Sea. After years of hard labor in Egypt, 6 days of walking, they finally reached the point of transition. A plethora of possibilities are before the Israelites, but this is only the beginning.

Tomorrow we read from Parshat Beshalach, the splitting of the Sea of Reeds. This parshah comes on the brink of freedom and the edge of slavery. The Israelites, on their journey, have the ultimate GPS system, a pillar of fire at night and a cloud by day. Through these symbols, God is visibly present for the Israelites, to lead them on their journey.

As the Israelites travel, moving farther away from slavery and closer to freedom, they arrive at the Sea of Reeds, their first obstacle of freedom. If they turn around, the Egyptians, who are in hot pursuit, will capture them and they will return to slavery. If they attempt to cross the sea, they might drown. They stand, awaiting transition, paused in a moment of decision. What to do? The Midrash tells us that Nachshon Ben Ami-Nadav takes a risk, he steps into the water, moves forward, and just as the waters’ depths are nearly over his head, the sea parts, and dry land appears for the Israelites to cross.

Seeing this miracle, the Israelites begin to sing, the Song of the Sea, praising God as their strength, their warrior, the ultimate being.

עָזִּי וְזִמְרָת יָהּ וַיְהִי־לִי לִישׁוּעָה

“The Lord is my strength and song, He has become my salvation.”

What respect and awe the Israelites exhibit to God in this song! They are grateful, amazed, dancing, and singing. And yet, they cross the sea, arrive safely, having seen the Egyptians swallowed up by the waters, and they begin to complain.They want food, water. They want to go back to Egypt, where life wasn’t so hard, where food was easy to come by. Sound familiar? How many of us are waiting anxiously for the end of Passover, for that piece of bread? How many of us complained about the cleaning the preparation?

In Parshat Beshalach, the Israelites experience a continuum of emotions; fear, gratitude, excitement, disappointment, awe, dread, discomfort, and joy. It is a lot to take in for a people so new to freedom. Parshat Beshalach is about finding the balance between these emotions on our journey throughout life.

We stand here, on the brink of our own transition. We’ve cleaned out the chametz, cleaned out the clutter and dirt of our homes. We’ve made it 6 days out on the journey. Passover stands on the balance of rebirth and renewal, will we go back to our old ways, or will we take the leap of Nachshon Ben Ami Nadav? Will we follow the pillar of fire, the light of Torah as we embark on our journey towards Shavuot and Matan Torah? We’ve come far on the journey, 6 days done, we’ve almost made it across the point of no return. Here we stand at the edge of Passover, we’ve done the hard work, how will we emerge?

As Passover comes to an end, as we cross the Sea of Reeds and embrace the freedom that comes with it, may we experience this transition, as not, running way from what was, but running towards what will be. May we be blessed on this journey with foresight. As we enter this Shabbat of transition, may we find ourselves surrounded by the warmth of the pillar of Fire that is Torah, may we be blessed with the strength to follow the sometimes challenging path that leads towards the future.

Shabbat shalom!

Surreal

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it feels surreal, like he’s just in the bedroom, taking a nap. He’ll be up in a minute. At times it’s like this past summer never happened, we’re just the girls, getting ready for passover, he’s just in the next room, preparing himself. and then the seder comes, and he’s not leading it, I am. I expect him to walk in, sit down, and in his own way, lead the seder. I try so hard to live up to his example, to make him proud, to continue the tradition. but i wish, i would give anything for him to lead it again. Did I really do a good job? Did I remember all the pieces, did I do it right? did i add enough of my stuff? did i keep enough of his?
I come home and I expect to see him waiting for me, give me a hug, welcome me home. It doesn’t feel real, but it’s all too real.