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death and mourning

judaism is a lot
like your bff.
there when you need it.

Since you’re here, we’re guessing a loved one has died, or is very ill. We’re sorry for your loss, and we truly hope that some of the wisdom you find will ease your pain a little. The traditions make a lot of sense, and the rules and guidelines will help you know what to do next when you’re grieving and probably feeling overwhelmed. This section is broken into two sections: Before the funeral, which are the things that you need to know right away, and mourning, which starts at the funeral. Even if you’ve never done much, or any, Jewish before and no matter what you believe when it comes to God or Spirit or whatever, we hope you find comfort in knowing that generations before you have followed these same traditions, and they really do help.

before the funeral

JEWISH TRADITIONS FOR BURIAL ​

Jewish funeral traditions are rooted in respect for the dead, from the time of death through burial. If you don’t have a rabbi, start by calling a Jewish funeral home, because you’re going to need some help. Burials are supposed to take place within 24 hours, so this part moves quickly. The exceptions are Shabbat (we’re not supposed to have funerals during Shabbat) or if family members need time to travel. TBH, it’s good that this part moves fast. Think about it like this — if your dad died, you’re probably sad and distressed, but instead of being able to focus on your loss, you’re trying to figure out who can/can’t get to the ceremony in time, flight arrangements, black clothes, food, who should speak at the ceremony, who shouldn’t, etc. Once the funeral is over, you can finally take a deep breath and start to really mourn your loss, which starts right after the burial.

This is the tradition of staying with someone who has died from the moment of death until they are buried, called shemira. The people who do this are called shomers. Jewish funeral homes will supply the shomer. In the olden days, this was to keep the body safe from thieves and rodents. Today it’s about that respect for the deceased. Being a shomer is considered the highest form of mitzvah, because you’re helping someone who can never repay your kindness. Also, it’s nice to know your loved one isn’t lying alone in some cold room.

The process starts with a specific order for washing and drying the body. Once the body is clean, it is typically wrapped in a white cotton shroud, also known as a kittel. Sometimes a tallit is used instead. Burial clothes are traditionally kept simple so that rich and poor people are all buried alike. This idea of simplicity is carried through traditions about death. Jews are not traditionally buried with items from their lives or in their favorite dress or anything like that.  We come into this world without trappings and that is how we leave. It is actually quite beautiful. That is the reason that observant Jews don’t get tattoos or lots of body piercings. But, it is a myth that you can’t get buried in a Jewish cemetery if you have tattoos. We have not found this to be the case in any of our research. While we are busting myths, it’s also a myth that you can’t be buried in a Jewish cemetery if you have been an organ donor. On the contrary, it is usually considered a mitzvah for a Jewish person to donate their organs.

Do you really have to ask? The idea of ashes to ashes, dust to dust is carried through a Jewish casket. They are generally made of soft wood with no metal parts, so they can decompose quickly. In the olden days, and sometimes still in Israel today, people were buried directly in the ground without a casket. Sometimes holes are drilled into the bottom of the casket so that the body touches the dirt. Bodies are supposed to decompose so that the soul can leave, which is why Jewish practice is not to embalm the dead. That’s also much better for the environment.

Many Jews still prefer burial because cremation can be a sad reminder of the Holocaust. Others say that according to the Talmud, only a body that has decomposed naturally can be resurrected. (Resurrection? More on that later.) That said, cremation has become increasingly common, probably because it is less expensive and better for the environment.

the funeral

who, where, when?
(and those little black ribbons)

There’s a set format to most funerals, but you can still speak up about the service you would like to create to honor your loved one’s life.

Funeral services are usually a mix of prayers, readings, and eulogies or stories about the deceased. (The stories are our favorite part, especially when they are funny and honest.) The funeral is the official start of the mourning period, so the Mourner’s Kaddish and the Hebrew prayers for the dead are often recited. Music and singing aren’t traditional, but sometimes having music at a funeral can be exactly what’s needed to celebrate the life that was lived. Like so many public milestones, this is one where, if you have a vision of what you want, you should not be overly concerned with what the funeral director or the rabbi might think.

Family and close friends are typically given the honor of being a pallbearer and carrying the casket, although usually the pallbearers are not as much carrying the casket as they are walking alongside as it is rolled on a stand with wheels. Others might share a reading or a eulogy. People won’t have much time to prepare, but reassure them that this isn’t the Oscars, and the most important thing is that they say something from the heart. Even if you’re not part of the service, being there to show your respect and to support the family is what’s important.

Sometimes the funeral is conducted at the cemetery, and sometimes it starts somewhere else, like someone’s home or a synagogue or funeral home, and ends at the cemetery. A lot of people will come for the ceremony but not continue to the burial, depending on where the burial is and how close people are to the deceased. If the person has been cremated and the ashes are not being scattered, the service can happen just about anywhere that feels right.

It’s an old tradition that before the funeral begins, the closest family members (parents, children, siblings and spouses) tear some of their clothing to symbolize their grief, generally with the rabbi present. These days, even though it’s less dramatic, people usually wear a torn black ribbon instead. This custom comes from the idea that people used to tear their clothing when someone they loved died, because that kind of news makes people want to tear their clothes and break things. The idea that we’ve been doing and more importantly feeling the same thing for thousands of years is one of those cool things about Jewish history that makes us feel like we are part of something much bigger.

At the end of the funeral, everyone is invited to shovel dirt into the grave, starting with the closest family members. To be honest, it is hard to listen to the sound of dirt hitting the casket, but it’s meaningful and powerful too. It also feels right instead of just walking away from the grave and letting a stranger cover the casket. Once you have thrown dirt on someone’s grave, there’s no denying the fact that they are gone. Now it’s time for mourners to get busy with the grieving and healing process.

The grave is given a temporary marker at the burial. The formal tombstone is placed later, at the unveiling. Family, friends and anyone who wants to usually goes to the relative or friend’s home where shiva or mourning, will take place.

mourning

shiva

OK, so what’s shiva? It’s the seven-day mourning period, typically held for close relatives like father, mother, son, daughter, brother, sister or spouse. But there’s no rule saying that a close friend of the deceased can’t sit shiva too, and they often do. So, basically, the loved ones of the person who died sit shiva, and the friends who come to visit those who are sitting are making a shiva call. 

Shiva, which is Hebrew for seven, starts right after the funeral. When you sit shiva in the traditional way, you stay at home. You don’t go to work, don’t go to the supermarket, you just stay home and people come to visit and comfort you. The idea of not doing anything else is to mourn in a big way for a certain period of time, and then after shiva is over you can rejoin the living. It’s not that people don’t continue missing the person who died, just that the full-time mourning period is over. 

Today, many Jews don’t sit shiva for a full seven days. But before you decide to cut shiva short, remember that it is also for the friends and associates who loved the person who died in addition to the close family. It is really poignant to pay a shiva call.

Shiva usually starts right after the funeral. Someone at the funeral will typically announce shiva plans. Usually, it’s at the home of a close relative of the person who died. Of course, geography often plays an important part too. For example, if you live in San Francisco, but you grew up Long Island, and your mom in Long Island died, you might sit shiva in Long Island with your mom’s friends and Long Island family, but then you might have a day in San Francisco, with your own community, who also want to be with you during this time. There’s usually a built-in break too for the people sitting shiva (because who wouldn’t need a nap?). For example, sometimes people sit from 9:00 a.m. until 3:00 p.m., then start again from 6:00 until 9:00 p.m. People do not sit shiva on Shabbat, so don’t plan to go between Friday night and Saturday night.

The reason it is called sitting shiva is because the mourners who are sitting are exhausted and sad, and they don’t need to be walking around playing hostess and trying to make their visitors comfortable. So yes, they are often sitting. In fact, you might very well see the people who are mourning have little stools or seats without cushions. Low seating is a throwback to when sitting on the ground symbolized mourning. There are references in the Bible to being with others during mourning. In the book of Job, his three friends “sat down with him upon the ground… for they saw that his grief was very great.” We love that the tradition of being together and offering comfort hasn’t changed.

Not exactly. Depending on the observance of the folks who are sitting shiva, there is likely a minyan in the evening, typically for mourners to say Kaddish (the mourner’s prayer). After the formal part of the minyan is over, the leader will most likely ask if anyone wants to say something about the person who died. This is a really lovely custom and often means a lot to the mourners. It’s a good time to share a story or memory. But there’s more to shiva than just the service and stories. Generally, during all of shiva, people hang out and nosh and tell stories and jokes about the deceased. To be really clear: the idea is not to avoid the subject of the person who died. Obviously take a hint from the person who is mourning, but the typical custom is to talk about the person who died and celebrate their life.

At the end of the seven days, or however long you sit, it’s traditional for friends and loved ones to accompany the mourners on a brief walk. Back in the old days this walk would symbolize reentry into the world and the neighbors could see that you are no longer sitting. It’s even common to go and do something mundane like go to the market and buy bread or something. The reason for this is because as you enter back into the real world, you want to ease yourself slowly by doing something relatively meaningless and easy. Remember, you are still fragile. So, the day that shiva is over is not, let us repeat, not the day to plan a big meeting. If you do go to work, go for half a day.

Mourning Part Two: Shloshim​

Shloshim is the 30-day period following burial (including the seven shiva days, so there are only 23 official mourning days left). It’s less intense. The mourners go to work and carry on with their lives, but there are some things, like parties, that people in shloshim typically don’t do.

When shloshim is over, the traditional mourning period is over, unless it is your mom or dad who died. The mourning period for parents is a full year. Some people wear the torn black ribbon during this time to show the world they are still in mourning. Often, people don’t go to parties or buy new clothes for an entire year. Many people, including secular people, say Kaddish (the mourner’s prayer) regularly during this time in honor of their parents and because the ritual can be comforting. Traditionally, Kaddish is said daily for 11 months after the death of a parent, and again on the yahrzeit, the anniversary of death, each year. It’s also traditionally said with a minyan. Do what you can – as often as feels comfortable, and alone if that’s what works best. (Seriously, it’s not like you’re going to forget your loved one if you don’t say Kaddish.)

FAQS

shiva basics for guests ​

We get questions from lots of people — Jewish and not — about what to do and expect during a shiva. It’s not that complicated, and it’s a very nice thing to do. Don’t worry about doing the wrong thing — just show up.

Absolutely not! In fact, you won’t be. The people whose loved one has died have enough to think about without sending you an invite. All you need to do is find out where and what time those who are sitting shiva are seeing visitors and then show up. It’s a mitzvah, a good deed, to comfort someone in mourning, even if you don’t know the family very well. In the olden days, when Jews lived in communities of other Jews, they all just knew. Today, hopefully, friends and community members take over and post on Facebook or send out an email. But don’t just assume someone is handling it. If you know someone who has had a death in their family, ask if you can help notify people.

Don’t ring the bell. Just open the door and walk right in. This way, you won’t interrupt the mourners. Don’t feel weird about not ringing the doorbell, it’s the way it is supposed to be.

Chances are the people sitting shiva will be dressed casually. They are probably exhausted. But, if you’re dressed up, that’s fine too. Often people are coming from work. This is one of those times where, honestly, no one cares. Again, just show up.

Here’s an easy answer: Talk about the person who died; it’s why you’re there. Here’s an example: “I’m so sorry about your mom. I never had the pleasure of meeting her; can you tell me about her?” Often the family in mourning has photos around the living room of the person who died. Pick one up and ask about it. Obviously, if the person in mourning would rather talk about “Game of Thrones,” go with it. (But no spoilers.)

At the end of the funeral, everyone is invited to shovel dirt into the grIt’s fine to come with nothing, really. There will probably be food out, but this isn’t a feast. If you just hate the idea of going empty-handed, feel free to bring something to eat. (If the mourners are kosher bring something they can eat. If you’re not sure, ask someone who knows the family.) If you do bring food, make it a casserole or something the family can eat as a meal, rather than cookies or sweets. People generally don’t bring flowers, but if you do, don’t worry about it. Sometimes people give tzedakah in the name of the deceased.ave, starting with the closest family members. To be honest, it is hard to listen to the sound of dirt hitting the casket, but it’s meaningful and powerful too. It also feels right instead of just walking away from the grave and letting a stranger cover the casket. Once you have thrown dirt on someone’s grave, there’s no denying the fact that they are gone. Now it’s time for mourners to get busy with the grieving and healing process.

Don’t be surprised if the mirrors in the house are covered with black cloth. People in mourning are not supposed to care about what they look like since they’re supposed to focus on mourning.

Your choice. Probably not more than an hour. You can pay a few shiva calls if it’s a relative or someone you’re especially close to.

You be you, but just because you went to the funeral doesn’t mean you should not make a shiva call too. Lots of times, mourners are in a haze during the funeral, but are happy to talk more during shiva.

one year later

UNVEILING THE TOMBSTONE

The unveiling is when the tombstone is revealed at the gravesite, marking the shift from mourning to remembering. It usually takes place within a year of the burial, before the first yahrzeit (anniversary of death). Pick a date that works for those closest to the deceased, but traditionally not on Shabbat. There’s no formal service or need for a rabbi, so you can make it personal—share memories, read poems, pass around photos, play music, or have a moment of silence. Assign someone to lead in advance to ensure things go smoothly. Here are some guidelines:

  • Blessings and/or readings (choose from the readings section below or find some of your own).
  • A psalm or two. The most common ones (Psalm 23, Psalm 121, Psalm 90) are below.
  • Sharing of personal memories, stories, etc.
  • Memorial prayer (Hebrew and/or English).
  • Mourner’s Kaddish.
  • Removal of the veil or cloth from the headstone. (It’s nice to have someone read the inscription on the headstone out loud)

That’s it! Instead of flowers, Jewish tradition is to place a small stone on the grave, symbolizing the lasting presence of the deceased’s memory. Stones also show others that someone visited. The idea is that the beauty of flowers isn’t permanent, just like a person’s body, but the spirit, like a rock, lasts forever. Some families have a lunch or small gathering after the unveiling.

death and mourning readings

After awhile you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand an chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning
any doesn’t mean security,
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open,
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And learn to build all your roads
On today because tomorrow’s ground
Is too uncertain for plans, and futures have
A way of falling down in mid-flight.
After awhile you learn that even sunshine
Burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate
Your own soul, instead of waiting
For someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure…
That you really are strong
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn…
With every goodbye you learn.

– By Veronica A. Shoffstall

The Hebrew prayer recited in memory of the dead during the mourning period and to mark the anniversary of the death of a loved one. People can say Kaddish for people they don’t know, too. For instance, to remember those who died in the Holocaust. Interesting fact – death isn’t mentioned in the Kaddish, instead the prayer is largely focused on praising God.

Yitgadal v’yitkadash sh’mei raba b’alma di-v’ra
chirutei, v’yamlich malchutei b’chayeichon
uvyomeichon uvchayei d’chol beit yisrael, ba’agala
uvizman kariv, v’im’ru: “amen.”
Y’hei sh’mei raba m’varach l’alam ul’almei almaya.
Yitbarach v’yishtabach, v’yitpa’ar v’yitromam
v’yitnaseh, v’yithadar v’yit’aleh v’yit’halal sh’mei
d’kud’sha, b’rich hu, l’eila min-kol-birchata v’shirata, tushb’chata
v’nechemata da’amiran b’alma, v’im’ru: “amen.”

Y’hei shlama raba min-sh’maya v’chayim aleinu
v’al-kol-yisrael, v’im’ru: “amen.”

Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu
v’al kol-yisrael, v’imru: “amen.”

Magnified and sanctified be Your name, O God, throughout the world, which You have created according to Your will. May Your sovereignty be accepted in our own days, in our lives, and in the life of all the House of Israel, speedily and soon, and let us say, Amen. May Your great name be blessed for ever and ever. Exalted and honored, adored and acclaimed be Your name, O Holy One, blessed are You, whose glory transcends all praises, songs, and blessings voiced in the world, and let us say, Amen. Grant abundant peace and life to us and to all Israel, and let us say, Amen. May You who establish peace in the heavens, grant peace to us, to Israel, and to all the earth, and let us say, Amen. May God comfort you among the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.

Some of our favorite Shiva moments have been when a group of people sit around and tell stories about the deceased. Sometimes people can be shy or unsure how to behave at Shiva calls so get some folding chairs and assign someone to make this moment happen, or plan to do it yourself. It will mean so much more to the mourners than having everyone stand around and look sad, and it’s a great way for the people in the room to connect and share with each other. This blessing is a good way to start or finish the storytelling.

Zikhrono livrakha – may (insert deceased’s name here) memory be a blessing to all who knew and loved them, and may we offer comfort and community to his/her wife/husband (insert name here) and their children, (insert names here).
-Author Unknown

So, Judaism is kind of confusing when it comes to afterlife, so we wouldn’t say this particular reading is particularly Jewish, but it’s beautiful. It was originally written as a song by Conn Bernard.

Time for me to go now, I won’t say goodbye.
Look for me in rainbows, way up in the sky.
In the morning sunrise when all the world is new, just look for me and love me, as you know I loved you.

Time for me to leave you, I won’t say goodbye.
Look for me in rainbows, high up in the sky.

In the evening sunset, when all the world is through, just look for me and love me, and I’ll be close to you.
It won’t be forever, the day will come and then my loving arms will hold you, when we meet again.

Time for us to part now, we won’t say goodbye.
Look for me in rainbows, shining in the sky.

Every waking moment, and all your whole life through.
Just look for me and love me, as you know I loved you.
Just wish me to be near you, and I’ll be there with you.
-Conn Bernard

Wow. For a relatively common emotion, grief is not written about in such a raw manner very often. Here, grief Coach, Jenetta Barry, offers powerful wisdom.

Grief, a natural process, isn’t depression, isn’t allowing one’s emotions, outside of a session.
Many are scared of the emotions of grief, yet with feelings expressed comes healing relief.

Grief works in cycles not within stages, with rollercoaster reactions the psyche just rages.
Fixing the bereaved with cliché and statement, just silences their feelings and entraps their lament.
Feeling isolated and imprisoned is an unexpected outcome, and so deep within loss one feels overwhelmingly numb.

Allowing grief to the griever helps the healing along. When the non-grievers understand then reactions aren’t wrong.
Understanding you’re trapped in your grief, you can toss your fear, and then have choice in transcending your loss.

Grief healing occurs with emotions expressed, then the psyche is freed and becomes less depressed.
Finding the gift within loss will re-birth the new you, grieving’s your tool, to create a life that feels true.

Grief is a process that when lovingly seen through, allows feelings to surface of love and acceptance, and lots of grace too.
-Jenetta Barry

It is kind of shocking when your world falls to pieces and everything and everyone around you carries on with life. How can the birds continue to sing? How can people carry on loving life? It is like becoming frozen in time and watching life like a movie. As the weeks and months roll by, life becomes more real again, but you will never forget that point in time where life stood still.
-Zoe Clark-Coates

Oh! Such a sweet reading by that smarty, Anne Lamott.

You will lose someone you can’t live without, your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly, that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.
-Anne Lamott

This reading was inspired by Lexi’s son, Charlie, who passed away when he was six months old. She shares her experience of the ebb and flow of loss, longing, and love.

As far as I can see, grief will never truly end. It may become softer over time, more gentle, and some days will feel sharp. But grief will last as long as love does – forever. It’s simply the way the absence of your loved one manifests in your heart. A deep longing, accompanied by the deepest love. Some days, the heavy fog may return, and the next day, it may recede, once again. It’s all an ebb and flow, a constant dance of sorrow and joy, pain and sweet love.
-Lexi Behrndt

So much of Jewish practice revolves around having a strong, loving community. So, we decided we needed to have a blessing for our friends and community. If you think the part asking people to hold hands won’t fly with your group, just edit out the second line. But you should push yourself to leave it in. People love that stuff.

Here with you our friends, we feel so greatly blessed.
We link hands for a moment and feel the warmth of this community.
We are blessed to be surrounded by friends and loved ones here today from near and far.
From years past and from yesterday.
Months go by before we speak to some, others we see daily.
Some share blood or politics and some share experiences and some just a sense of humor and opinions.
The energy that brings people together is a mystery and a gift.
We thank God for our friends and community who have phones that they answer, emails that they respond to, shoulders to lean on and hands to hold.
May we always remember the exquisite value of friendship and community and be good friends in return. Amen.
-A JewBelong Original

In this insane world that changes so quickly, it is grounding to remember where, and more importantly, who we came from. This notion of remembering Judaism’s foundations and meaningful traditions are the driving forces behind JewBelong.

In the garden there’s a tree planted by someone who only imagined me.
What love, what vision.
I marvel at the gift.
No fruit could be sweeter than this.
I’m standing on the shoulders of the ones who came before me.
As my people went from land to land, something passed from hand to hand, and it isn’t just eh words and stories.
Of the ancient laws and golden glories, it’s the way we study the book we study, it’s the way we study the way.
I’m standing on the shoulders of the ones who came before me.
Today my life is full of choice because a young man raised his voice.
Because a young girl took a chance, I am freedom’s inheritance.
Years ago they crossed the sea and they made a life that’s come to me.
I’m standing on the shoulders of the ones who came before me so in the garden I’ll plant a seed, a tree of life for you to read.
The fruit will ripen in the sun.
The words will sound when I am gone.
These are the things I pass along, the fruit, the book and the song.
I’m standing on the shoulders of the ones who came before me.
-Doug Cotler

unveiling readings

Except no matter how many times we read this, the vivid imagery of the frozen solid honey cake is still breathtaking.

When my mother died, one of her honey cakes remained in the freezer.
I couldn’t bear to see it vanish, so it waited, pardoned, in its ice cave behind the metal trays for two more years.

On my forty-first birthday I chipped it out, a rectangular resurrection, hefted the dead weight in my palm. Before it thawed, I sawed, with serrated knife, the thinnest of slices – Jewish Eucharist. The amber squares with their translucent panes of walnuts tasted – even after I toasted them – of freezer, or frost, a raisined delicacy delivered up from a deli in the underworld.

I yearned to recall life, not death – the still body in her pink nightgown on the bed, how I lay in the shallow cradle of the scattered sheets after they took it away, inhaling her scent one last time.

I close my eyes, savor a wafer of sacred cake on my tongue and try to taste my mother, to discern the message she baked in these loaves when she was too ill to eat them:

I love you. It will end. Leave something of sweetness and substance in the mouth of the world.
-Anna Belle Kaufman

This exquisitely beautiful reading about just a mundane birdhouse, reminds us that it is the small things we might remember about those we have loved and lost.

Do you have a twenty-foot extension ladder? Good. Let’s get it out of the garage. I want to put this birdhouse up on one of the evergreens that stands off your back deck. I’m going to use long tenpenny nails to fasten it to the tree and some kind of wire strapping, too. I want it to stay there for a long time. I want you to notice it season after season – how the mother bird keeps flying in and out of the little knothole that I drilled to where the baby birds stretch their mouths wide open in a ferocious pink bouquet.

If I am no longer here for some reason, I think you will still see me occasionally reflected in the incessant activity of the birds flying in and out of the birdhouse – always coming and going just like I did, not wishing to become too well-known, or to ever stay long in one place. And yet the birdhouse will say something different about me: it will say that I lived here. It will be a thing that I made with my hands on a specific afternoon, working for hours in my garage, with paint streaks and sawdust on my clothes, and that I took the trouble to hang that little domicile high on the trunk of your particular tree with a knowledge of how life always moves on and yet leaves something behind as well with something alive inside it.

You might say that memory itself is a piece of real estate, a residence with a private entrance and a mystery inside like this small chateau painted blue with orange spots on it, hung twenty feet high – a thing, for a while, out of reach of the predator, time.
-Tony Hoagland

You know when you get so mad at your mom or dad for f*#king you up? Us too. This reading helps.

Remembering our parents. When we were young, we were unable to appreciate how devoted our parents were to our well-being, and the many ways in which they devoted their time, energy, and resources to nurturing us. We now know how much they cared for us and helped prepare us for productive lives. However, appreciating their qualities does not require us to romanticize them. We all had to find our own paths in life and develop our own understandings of the world and our place in it, and that often led to conflicts with our parents. Moreover, we learned that our parents are human beings with imperfections. As we remember our parents today and focus on their positive qualities, we may be able to forgive them their flaws. Some of us may feel that our parents harmed us, intentionally or unintentionally, and that we are not yet able to forgive them; we hope that our mentioning them here today will help bring us a measure of healing.
-Author Unknown

Really a beautiful reading about grief and how we miss those who are no longer with us in the most routine parts of our days.

Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up.

Waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of.

It’s winter again: the sky’s a deep headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off. For weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking.

I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those wobbly bricks in the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve.

I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it.
Parking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called yearning.

What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want whoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss – we want more and more and then more of it.

But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep.

For my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless: I am living, I remember you.
-Marie Howe

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