Kaddish

The old fashion 'year of mourning' has always fascinated me. Clear up until early this summer I pondered the significance of a full year, 12 months of recovery from the loss of a loved one. From one lacking experience in the field, it seemed much too long. At Stagedoor we had a Tarlton barbecue and watched Gone with the Wind- my first time through the entire film. Scarlet's year of mourning for her first husband seemed so painfully boring. Unwillingly wearing her black, dying to dance at parties, like a quarantined healthy person. Granted, it was Scarlet...But Olivia in Twelfth Night suffered similarly. She did grieve deeply for the death of her father, and refused visitors as protocol of mourning. But it's hard to tell whether she is still suffering, or happy to use the excuse to avoid the advances of men and simply be alone.

Now I see how imperative a year really is for recovery. I often fantasize about being shut away, able to ruminate openly and continuously over my loss. Perhaps then, living in it so fully, for such a concentrated amount of time, it would not sneak up on me in fits and starts. I would not have to receive the outside world until it was time to put my grief away.

I have started talking to someone, call it therapy if you like. I've done this once before (in a bout of college anxiety) so it's not some big secret admission. I think it's been helpful having someone completely objective, whose sole purpose is to be my ear, my board to bounce off my thoughts and concerns. And she shared a prayer from the Jewish faith with me; the Kaddish is not technically the mourners prayer (that's the El Molai Rachamim, said at funerals) but it is said in a great loss, particularly of a parent. The mourner says the prayer publicly everyday for eleven months, and then releases the soul and ceases mourning. It proves the strength of faith of the mourner, that despite their loss they acknowledge and praise God. It's a very interesting concept which has been on my mind since she mentioned it.


More than anything, I think I wanted to share that as an extension of my rumination on time, I am seeing the value of allowing myself just that. Time. Through the last few months I have tried to press through my grief at times, to "get back to myself". I want so badly to feel normal. But eventually my little grey cloud catches up to me again and living through the feelings seems to be the only way to help them dissipate. It's like a physical ailment, it must be kneaded and soothed and rested and generally attended, instead of ignored.


So that's that. I've had good days and bad days lately, but when I step out of myself I realize it's only getting better when I am present, regardless of which kind of day it happens to be. As long as I'm there. If I am present I find much more hope, and sunshine through the grey.