Bittersweet
Passover last night.
It was the same as always, yet different.
When I close my eyes and think of Passover, I hear my father's voice. We do the Seder mostly in English, with my father leading the service and reciting key prayers in Hebrew.
But not last night.
Last night my mother led the service.
My father has become too frail and feeble to read the Haggadah.
He sat at the table and followed along, but did not actively participate.
I knew this was coming. In the past few years he'd found it difficult to read at the table, but then again, he's been having difficulty with everything lately.
I am not a "daddy's girl" and through the years I have had my issues with my father.
But he's my father.
And this hurts so much.
It was the same as always, yet different.
When I close my eyes and think of Passover, I hear my father's voice. We do the Seder mostly in English, with my father leading the service and reciting key prayers in Hebrew.
But not last night.
Last night my mother led the service.
My father has become too frail and feeble to read the Haggadah.
He sat at the table and followed along, but did not actively participate.
I knew this was coming. In the past few years he'd found it difficult to read at the table, but then again, he's been having difficulty with everything lately.
I am not a "daddy's girl" and through the years I have had my issues with my father.
But he's my father.
And this hurts so much.
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