A letter…

Eve Posen1 Comment
Daddy,
It has been four months since you took your last breath in this world and I miss you now more than ever. I am filled with wonder, what would you tell me now, what would the emails have said, would my grades have been better, how could you have helped me through this semester. I wonder how you would have enjoyed the material I am learning, what great brainstorms we would have had. How much of this did you already know? How much of this would excite you? I miss hearing your voice and your gentle but forceful words of encouragement, of support and of love. I wonder what you are doing, how you are filling your days. Do you miss us? Can the soul miss someone or something? Are you watching me?
Sometimes I wish I could feel your presence, I crave the knowledge that you are always with me, but I want it in a physical sense. I am constantly searching for you, trying to think of what you’d say to me, how you would phrase something. I try to remember the fun we had together, the learning we did, and then I try to think about how you’d respond to my problem or challenge of the moment. I try to bring you into my everyday, I try to hold you close and never let you go. I try to ground myself with the roots you gave me, and spread my wings to soar into a new place, and unknown place that terrifies me.
Daddy, I miss you every day. I think of you and your smile, and the joy I brought you, and you brought me. I am broken hearted, some days I am empty, taken over with the grief and sadness i feel when I remember you won’t answer your phone. I wonder if you were ready to go, I wonder what you wanted to do that you never got to accomplish, and can I do it for you? How can I honor your memory? How can I share the great man that you were, that you are to me?
You probably already know these things, what I’m thinking, what I miss, what’s going on.
Daddy, I want you to know that I am o.k., that I am trying to smile again. I, your “beautiful redhead” am trying to make it through, taking it one day at a time, some times minute by minute, but I will go on, I will make it through. I want you to know that I will never forget you, and that now, as I find your letters and tapes, we are having some incredible conversations. I want you to know how much like you I am, how much I admire you and love you.
Daddy, I love you and wish you were here, and Daddy, I’m glad you are at peace.
Alright Daddy, time to go take my final final of the semester, I’ll write more to you later!
I LOVE YOU DADDY, ALWAYS!

באהבה
מותק איב

When I Was Younger

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It’s times like the holidays when I wish I was younger. I miss the carefree days where Hanukkah was about the miracle of the oil and the Maccabees weren’t such a historical entity, but a childhood story. I miss the family Hanukkah parties where my cousins and I all got together, when we went shopping for gifts with my grammy and zaide, the latkes my nana made that were lacy and crispy on the outside. I miss the dreidle game my dad made, and the grab bag Hanukkah party with the cousin’s club. I miss the past, I am clinging to my memories, trying to make them as vivid as I can, trying to make them real. What I wouldn’t give for another taste of those latkes, another family gathering.

I am mourning the past, I am mourning my childhood. The innocence and simplicity that was, is no more. Everyday, I face these memories that haunt and enlighten me. I miss them, I miss my family.

So Much to Do, So little time

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IN the last few weeks I have been touched with a bit of writers block when it comes to my obligatory school work, and a insurgence of creativity in my aspirations for the future and my programmatic ideas. And now, as finals are approaching, I have no creativity to writ emy papers and an overwhelming sense that I am stuck, with not quite the resources to move forward in my aspirations for the Jewish world, and at the same time, so energetic I want to go run right now and start making a difference.
I want to creat etwo video games, write a book, change the face of Jewish education, educate on grief, create programs that bring people into Judaism and excite them about all the possibilities that the future holds for us. I want to ignite the flame in someone else, and have that flame pass from person to person and burn as a torch for Judaism. And, SOOOO MUCH MORE. I want to create a family haggadah that will enable my family to move forward out of theses months of tragedy and into a new phase, of life, tradition and change. I want to strengthen my father’s memory in my life, and make him proud. I want to make myself proud, I want to grow, I want to live, I want to laugh, I want to love.
I have all of these wants, wishes, dreams, and then all of this school work that will help foster me to get there and at the same time feels like it is holding me back from getting on with my work in the world. The daily dilemmas of my life these days… of to write another paper!

Death is about the living

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Yesterday morning a close friend and classmate passed away after a year long battle with Lukemia. He fought valliantly, but no amount of effort or modern medicine can outsmart God. He leaves behind three small children and a wonderful life.
All of this comes close to the 3 month anniversary of my own father’s death. His death after 7 years of fighting various illnesses and in the end losing his battle in a similar way to my friend. Both of them died of septic shock, both of them had too many illnesses and challenges to overcome. Both of them fought as hard as they could, and lost.
So, what is this all about? this is about me struggling the last 3 months to matter in a community who nearly turned their back on me when I needed them the most. I know there are differences, my friend was an actual member of the “community”, my father never was a part of the community. BUT, I AM, and I needed support and never received it.
Last night, someone asked me what do we do now? I responded, take care of the living. LIFE, CHOOSE LIFE the torah commands us… SO, CHOOSE THE LIVING, SUPPORT THEM, LOVE THEM, TALK TO THEM. Death is the end of one life, but without support, those who are left behind can’t go on, can’t live and honor the person who has passed.
Maybe now, instead of ignoring me, people will talk to me, support me? Support the living, support those of us who can be helped, support the future. TALK, ASK IN A MONTH, A FEW MONTHS, HOW ARE YOU? DON’T STOP!

the NON-KADDISH MINYAN

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There is a phenomenon known as the Kaddish Minyan, the space, where a majority of those who make up the minyan, the community are mourners or recent mourners. There is a sense of shared experience, shared pain, a sense of belonging and welcoming. In a Kaddish Minyan, the mourner, the Kaddish sayer is not alone, they are supported, uplifted by the community, they know others have been there, and understand the importance of the experience.

I go to the Non-Kaddish Minyan. I go to a minyan for people who go for themselves, to pray for themselves, to fulfill an obligation to a greater power. I go to a place where I am the only voice when I say Kaddish, Me, and me alone. Sometimes, the community is so lost in their own place, that they don’t respond to the kaddish. What’s the point of saying Kaddish in a minyan if that minyan doesn’t respond, neither to the words of the Kaddish prayer, nor to the needs of the mourner. In the Non-Kaddish Minyan, no one shares my experience, no one is willing to reach out, acknowledge the toughness of my days. Not to be “ME” centered, but very few people in this minyan are there for me.

My Non-Kaddish Minyan is in a space that is convenient for me, in a place I frequent daily. Perhaps a minyan of convenience isn’t the minyan for a Kaddish Sayer who wants support. This minyan espouses the values of community, but rarely acts on it to support one another through a challenging time. Given a celebration, that’s another story. In this minyan, the focus is on the davening, the praying, doing it right, getting it done, checking it off the mitzvah list, not on supporting one another, helping one another, growing together. What is so hard about this is that in this espoused community, we are growing the future community leaders. Leaders who can’t find 10 minutes on a Sunday evening to support a fellow member of their community. Leaders who are into their davening, but not into their hearts. Leaders who create a “community” of emptiness, of cliques, of alliances, of levels of importance for people. Not, leaders who create a space to help each other mourn and grow, who help one another to become stronger, out of the tragedy and into a triumph.

This is the Non-Kaddish Minyan. Perhaps I’ll say Kaddish alone, in a space where I can live with myself, support myself, grow with myself, and feel included, instead of in the space where I am on the outside, shunned, that girl whose father died… that girl who wanted to teach people.

Perkei Avot reminds us not to separate ourselves from the community, but I wonder, what happens when the community separates themselves from you? What happens when you try to be apart of the community that doesn’t want you, that doesn’t support you, that doesn’t create a space you want to be in, or can be in?

Separate not thyself from the community? This is only possible in a community that recognizes itself as a place to be and grow- this is not the Non-Kaddish Minyan.