Another this and that
Ever listen to the sound of rain on the roof? I have a skylight in my bathroom. Yesterday, when the remnants of Ida hit New York, I sat and listened to the rain hit the skylight, it put me in a contemplative mood.
(I was glad I could enjoy the rain. People down in New Orleans aren’t so lucky. I survived Sandy, I have an idea of what it’s like along the Gulf right now. They have my sympathy.)
It’s Labor Day weekend, the end of the summer season. And an odd juxtaposition…the first night of Rosh HaShanah is Monday night. It makes me keenly aware of the passage of time.
(Drew’s annual Labor Day bbq has fallen victim to the weird alignment of holidays; he’s hosting a Rosh HaShanah dinner Monday night.)
My mother’s birthday is Saturday. She’ll be 89. I don’t know how we are celebrating yet, still waiting to hear from my sister about the plans. My father was 88 when he passed, so to my superstitious sisters, 89 is a milestone. Mom is old and frail, but she’s still here …
“May you be sealed in the Book of Life.” That’s what we say to each other during the High Holy Days. It is said that G-d writes our fate into the Book of Life on Rosh HaShanah. On Rosh HaShanah it is written, on Yom Kippur it is sealed.
And I remember that Rosh HaShanah, as my father lay in the hospital … and I didn’t know what to pray for. Should I pray that he survive, or should I pray that G-d end the suffering for which there was no cure?
He died the day after Simchat Torah. An easy yartzeit to remember.
That Facebook post I mentioned the other day, the one I couldn’t remember writing…it was about a friend going into hospice care. I cannot remember which friend … when you are young, the death of a friend is rare. But as we age … I’ve lost far too many friends. And it bothers me that I cannot remember which of my friends was memorialized in that post.
The rain is cleansing. Perhaps tomorrow, when the sun returns, I won’t be so maudlin.
Kind of strange, Songbird, I wouldn't call my mood right now maudlin, but I need some perking up. I'm happy you were OK through Ida. In September 2015 my best friend from childhood, who lived in Brooklyn, was in the final days of her struggle with lung cancer (non smoker, possibly related to 9/11) and we visited her in Maimonides Medical Center. We visited her and she died less than three days later, five days before Yom Kippur. A young man came while we were there and offered us some kind of soup. I didn't know what to pray for, either. Yes, it's hard. It's sunny here, so I think the sun is coming your way. Alana ramblinwitham.blogspot.com
ReplyDeleteI understand about your friend.
DeleteIt’s better today, the sun is shining and the air is cool and crisp.
It's that time of year, so the rain put you in a fitting mood.
ReplyDeleteNot maudlin at all. Heartfelt, and beautifully expressed.
ReplyDelete