As most of my friends and family know, my mother, Harriet Smoller, passed away peacefully on July 28, 2012, this past Saturday night. We are all saddened to say goodbye, but happy she has transitioned to whatever may be beyond this earthly life.
Many, many people have sent me love via the internet and each and every condolence has been met with a smile that I have been thought of. When I was growing up, it was called paying respect and was the way I was raised. If someone lost a loved one, you told them you were sorry for their loss.
But we did it a different way. We went to the home of the bereaved and brought food and sat with them. We told stories, we cried, we laughed, we hugged. Or sometimes, depending on the degree of closeness, only popped in "to pay our respect". When my brother died at the age of 21, we sat Shiva. Everyone from the building and neighborhood and relatives came by for days on end. I remember feeling outrage at one particular young woman who had not been nice to him, and I remember basking in the love of my father's oldest friends. They made me feel like living. Whatever else it was, it was community looking after their own. The aunties came and cleaned the house, and food! In mine and many other cultures, food is love. I wish I could tell you what a box of fancy cookies from the bakery means. In Christian families one brings a casserole (hot dish) or pan of bars.
Then the official days of grieving are over, usually on the Sabbath, and for another month one wears a ribbon button with a slash. It means one is mourning a family member. I wore the one for Stuart like a badge of honor.
Years ago my husband and I did not so much as decide, but never joined a Temple or Church. We believed what we believed and for a time had a community of like thinkers. But for many years, community wise, I have been on my own. The advent of Facebook has brought me back in touch with many I have not seen in years and introduced me to many new friends who I appreciate though we have never met. They are real, but not physically present.
No one has cleaned my house, and the only cookies are a small box of Chips Ahoy that I bought myself. The boxes from Mom's apartment and various pieces of small furniture clutter the living room. When I get the motivation I will go through each and winnow out what should be kept. Tomorrow is Saturday and for the first Saturday in seven years I do not have to make arrangements for someone to visit my folks or take them out or visit myself.
I love my internet friends and far flung family, but oh, I wish you were here bringing me rainbow cookies from Nobby's.
I liked reading about the presence of the community in the homes of the bereaved. It reminded me of about sixty years ago when that was also the custom in the Jewish community in Chile. Unfortunately hardly anyone adhers to that any more, even though they still carry on a custom that I find extraordinary: each community has men and women volunteers who a day before the burial wash and dress (in a simple white robe), the deceased at the cementery in a room reserved exclusively for that purpose. Everyone, rich or poor is clad in the same robe and placed in the same, simplest of wooden caskets. There is a month of mourning when family members are not supposed to visit the last resting place and after that, every time someone visits, instead of bringing flowers they place a small stone on the tumb. This is a reminder of Moses leading the Exodus of the Israelites out of Egypt and across the Red Sea, after which they based themselves at Mount Sinai, on their way to the Promised Land. During the 40 years of wandering in the desert, many followers died and were buried in the desert and the top of the graves were covered with stones to avoid wild animals unearthing them.
ReplyDeleteIf you saw the movie "Schindler´s List" you may recall the final scene when the survivors who outlived Schindler, visit his grave in Jerusalem and each places a stone on the tumb.
I well remember the plain pine coffin of my brother and of placing stones on headstones to show we had been there. Yes, I remember the month of morning and the cemetery ritual of the unveiling of the stone. I did not know the history of the ritual, though.
ReplyDeleteI will have a reception and memorial when the bench for my parents is ready to be placed at the building where they lived for 7 years.