#yartzeit

My father's tenth yartzeit starts tonight. I like that it begins with Maariv. He used to say the Shma with me at bedtime, then tell me fantastic stories of kabalistic angels masquerading as lions. If you are interested in remembering him with me, please consider... Good deeds: Listen to someone who needs to be heard; share a kind word to change someone’s life. Or learn with a friend! Study this week’s parsha, or a Chassidic tale or one of my father’s teachings. Share with us in the comments what you're reading, or ask for a recommendation. Prayer: If you would like to pray but don’t have a regular practice of doing so, you can follow his guidance -- “If the only prayer you say throughout your life is ‘Thank You’, then that will be enough”.

...or at least I was bottling up just fine. :P

תשעה באב

has never been a happy day for any Jew. It is a day of mourning over the destruction of the בית המקדש and prayers for better days. To be honest I never really felt a connection to this day because I didn’t feel like I was mourning over anything tangible. I always dreaded fasting, I wanted it to pass quickly, and it didn’t mean much to me.

Until that ridiculously hot תשעה באב in 2017. That was the day my incredible Zaidy Donald was taken from this world. That was the day that instead of staying inside to ride out the fast, we stood in tears at the cemetery.

That was the first day that I experienced true and real mourning.

My Zaidy Donald was an incredible human being. A real A+ guy. The one who was known throughout the community. The one who used to pull candy fish out of our ears when we were little and introduced us to his beloved coffee candies. The one who always told me not worry if I didn’t find a guy to marry, because he knew a really nice middle aged plumber who’d love to meet me. The one who smiled even though he felt so weak at the end. The one always reading the newspaper and deeply loved his family.

So now תשעה באב has a whole new meaning for me. It is a day of mourning. A day of prayers for better days.

A day when I fiercely remember my kindhearted Zaidy, and hope with every part of my being that he is proud of us all.

Have a meaningful fast.