[february 23, 2020] what's in a number?

Has this February been weird or what?

I’ve been wanting to write something for days… Finding myself somewhat speechless.

Today is ten years since my mom passed away. Ten years. Just thinking about how much has happened in that amount of time is breath-taking. How blessed we are to have each other over this span of time. 

We had the azkara/yahrtzeit for my mom a little early this year… I chose to read my sister’s eulogy, entitled, “Ima and Motherhood” because it resonated with me. 

My sister talked about how only when she became a mother and understood how difficult a job it really was, did she understand how gracefully my mom raised us.  Maya talks about how special it was to share motherhood with her mother, how Ima was the first person to hold the baby, how they marveled together that the baby’s tushy fit in the palm of their hand and how my mom told Maya that her tush used to be that small once too! I wonder what she would say about her little Einat-de-la-kush-kush becoming an Ima.

I always thought that when I had a baby, I would feel some closure with my mom. In this moment, it almost feels “too closed.” By which I mean … it feels like it all could have changed up until this point. And now ten years feels like it solidifies this truth in my life: my mom is not here.

And yet, I feel her with me and in me all the time. Dudi and I both absolutely felt her during the labor and delivery. It’s not the same, it’s a new relationship, but it continues to be one of the most defining relationships in my life.

When my mom was dying, I was writing a lot, specifically about how I felt that we were all “living the questions” (thank you, Rilke) and now I feel, perhaps more than ever, that I am living so many questions and it is overwhelming not to have answers. Aren’t I supposed to have answers now that I’m an adult? Apparently, that’s not how this works. And maybe I find some relief in that; in fact, I believe I am in good company (you all!) that would not want to have it any other way.

Thank you, Mary Oliver for always saying the right thing.

Mysteries, Yes
Mary Oliver

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
   to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
   mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
   in allegiance with gravity
      while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
   never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
   scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
   who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
   “Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
   and bow their heads.