The Flickering Candle
I sit in my living room watching the seven-day candle flicker gently on this, the last day of my sitting shiva for the passing of my beloved husband. There is no escaping the light that has filled this room for the past seven days of mourning. I am sharing this for many reasons, which I hope will become apparent.
It is Jewish tradition to begin sitting shiva after burying a parent, sibling, child, or spouse. Those who wish to pay their respects come to visit and share memories of the loved one. The mourner is encouraged to talk, share their thoughts, and begin the healing process after their loss. Many cultures have similar periods. Some cultures have nothing comparable.
One might think that this is just a “nice” custom but it is far more than that. It is a gift to the mourners to help their own journey in the aftermath of pain, shock, and grief. Each death brings different feelings to the individual in mourning which flood them and overwhelm the moment.
Judaism has wonderful traditions. It also has rules. Lots of rules. Normally the rules are my least favorite part of what is otherwise a truly wonderful faith, peoplehood and ethos. One rule is that if a loved one dies and is buried right before a religious holiday, that there will be almost no shiva. It could last minutes or hours depending on each timeline. The holiday supersedes the need for fulfilling this commandment. We had friends to whom this applied. For them it was devastating. No community to support them. Alone, grieving in an abyss.
With my husband’s passing, I insisted on waiting to hold the funeral until my son and daughter-in-law could arrive in Israel from the United States. Under normal circumstances, with family close-by, the funeral would have taken place within 24 hours. With a holiday (Sukkot) only hours away, this could not happen. It would take at least a full day for my family to arrive from the U.S. and London. Sukkot is a holiday with an eight-day observance in Israel. There are only a few days during the holiday where burials can take place.
Many friends offered their condolences not only on the passing of my amazing Hubby, but also for the time which I would need to wait before the mourning period officially would begin.
For my needs, everything was just as it should be. My son, his wife, my nieces and nephews from London all flew to Israel to attend Hubby’s funeral. The extra waiting time afforded me the opportunity to spend time with those I loved the most, without the company of others. Once the family returned to their homes, I had gracious visitations from over 150 friends during the one-week period. It was energizing, uplifting, moving, poignant and an experience never to be forgotten. The days which followed (as everyone warned me), were far more sobering. My body and soul were very tired from not just Hubby’s death, the funeral and the shiva period, but also from the ten years of caring for him with his declining memory.
I am alone now with my memories. Hubby loved to tell stories about his life. He was always looking back. I never did, that was his domain. Now, Dear Diary, I find myself looking back continually. Back is where the bulk of my life was experienced. It is highly unlikely that I will live another half century or more! Back had lots of joy and fulfillment and love.
I will need to learn to leave back behind and move into the “Now.” Not quite yet, but soon.
