Finally Music and Joy After Long Mourning Year

According to Jewish Law and custom, one observes a year of mourning for a parent and thirty days for a sibling, spouse or child. During that year of mourning, one is to refrain from attending joyous, musical and festive events. That is unless it is your profession to perform or teach. Also, with "adjustments" one can attend the wedding or other type of joyous occasion for a close relative.

Even though the year for my father was over before Passover, two and a half months ago, only now have I gotten to attend any "joyous events." And that ended up one night after the next. And if I could have split myself in half I would have been at two events the first night. But since I work late Wednesday, I couldn't make the wedding we had been invited to, so I went to a granddaughter's piano recital.  It was thrilling to hear the improvement, since I hadn't been to one for over a year and a half.

And last night I dressed up to finally attend a wedding, which was great fun, but rather disorienting. I really felt that it was strange to be back at such events. I had missed so many significant weddings during the past year. It really brought me that feeling that my year was different. Israelis generally do rather large weddings, so one gets invited even if not all that close. But during the year I was mourning my father, friends celebrated weddings that also meant a lot to me, and they found my absence sad, too.

That's life. There are times we mourn and times we celebrate.

Shabbat Shalom and Good Health to All

We Thought They'd Live Forever: My Parents

It's so strange to think that both my parents have now passed away. It's only two weeks, since my father died, and in some ways it feels like a million years ago. And in some ways it feels like it never happened, even though I did sit shiva here, before Passover. I wasn't at the funeral, which was held in New York just before Passover began. 

I've been going through pictures and will no doubt post more. My mother passed away less than three years ago. They were both the longest living, record-breaking members of their families. Considering the effects and influences they both had on their grandchildren, even great-grandchildren, nieces, nephews (and their children, too,) and of course the three of us, their kids, in a sense they haven't really died. When you leave descendants and memories, like my parents did, it's clear that just their bodies no longer function. Their talents and interests can be seen in their great-grandchildren and will Gd willing be passed to the yet future generations. 

Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, and Shirley Spiegelman, Z"L

Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, and Shirley Spiegelman, Z"L

My Mother and I a few years ago

My Parents and I in their Great Neck, NY, livingroom 

My Father and Uncle Max Kaplan, Z"L, playing with my older daughters over forty years ago

My Father in the US Navy

My Father in the US Navy

My Mother many decades ago

My Father

My Mother

My Parents with a Friend in the Phoenix Old Age Home where they lived for close to three years

My Father and the Traveling Dentist

My Father Leaving the Traveling Dental Clinic

Bli neder, not a vow, I hope to post more photos of my parents from other times in their lives, not just when they were very old.

Jewish Mourning: Got Up From Shiva Before My Father was Buried

my father and I

All in all, there's nothing more humane, suitable for us humans than the Jewish Laws of Mourning. Sometimes things may seem a bit peculiar, such as the fact that I ended up not only sitting shiva (observing the traditional week-long mourning period) before my father was actually buried, but I ended it before his actual funeral.

my mother and I

What was this based on? You may be wondering. Everything I did was as per the instructions of our local rabbi, Rabbi Elchanan Ben-Nun. What I will write here is all layman style; I do not know on which halachot and tshuvot etc. anything was based on. But I must say that none of this was actually surprising or new to me. Sitting shiva before the funeral takes place is common when family members are separated by great distances or can't travel for other reasons.

After my sister called, the Tuesday morning before Passover, 11 Nissan, that our father had passed away, immediately after notifying my husband and kids I contacted Rav Elchanan. In that very first message to him I made it clear that I would not be traveling to New York for the funeral, nor was I involved with the logistics of the funeral and transporting my father from Arizona to NY. He responded that I should be prepared to sit shiva "immediately." "Immediately" did not mean that very minute, but when he'd make it over to my house in a couple of hours. In the meantime I should arrange to have someone available to do "kri'ah," make the first cut in my ritual ripping of shirt I was wearing, and while waiting I could continue with pre-Passover cleaning etc.

By the time the Rav came over, a few friends knew including the one I had chosen for the "first cut." I had done that for her a number a years ago when her own father had died. She, too, had sat shiva at home with her children in attendance, while the funeral was abroad.

At the same time I was making preparations to sit shiva, nobody was even sure when my father's funeral would be. It was in the middle of the night Arizona time, and American funerals, even Jewish ones, are not all that soon after death. Jewish Law requires that the body should be returned to the ground and soon as possible, generally the same day. Waiting to be buried is considered as making the dead person "suffer."

In Israel our guess was that my father's funeral would be either late Thursday or on Friday. Please don't forget that Friday night began Passover, and the Pesach Seder would be then.

According to Jewish Law, the major holidays, such as Passover, stop shiva, so I knew that I'd be finished Friday early afternoon, and I also knew that even if my father was buried Friday afternoon, the shiva would be very short, possibly counted in minutes only. That is what happened when my mother's mother had died sixty-four 64 years ago.

When Rav Elchanan came over, he supervised the kri'ah and told me that the actual shiva would only begin when I got notice that my father was in the hands of the chevra kadish,  the Jewish Mortuary workers. So I asked my sister to notify me. In the meantime I could continue getting ready for Pesach, as if I could concentrate on anything. I asked about the traditional "after the funeral meal" of round food, like eggs and bagels, or pita, and the rabbi said that I did need it. I asked if I could prepare for that, and he said:

"No, that is the job of the neighbors."

So I let them know, and food arrived when needed. My children came during this crazy time and helped get the house ready for shiva. Once I got notice from my sister, the shiva began for me. And due to the difference in time between New York and Israel, I was already "up" and ready for Passover before my father's New York funeral began.

I am grateful that in this modern world with cellphones and internet I knew immediately that he had passed away, because not all that long ago communication took longer, much longer. If notice of a death is over a month after the fact, then there is only a short symbolic shiva, which happened to a friend of ours. But that's another story...

At my mother's "unveiling." They have a double stone, which has been "waiting" for my father to rejoin her.

I hope that this clarifies things for those who haven't heard how Jewish Mourning can work when not all live in the same area. Please consult with an Orthodox Jewish Rabbi when confronted with such situations.

Sitting Shiva is Very "Macro"

Davka, just the week that 52Frames had "Macro" for its theme/challenge my father passed away. I had a strong feeling from what I had been told by my sister that his time was short, and I rushed submitting my photo, so it wouldn't prey on my mind.

"Flower Power"
This tiny flower, less than an inch in diameter, is from a bunch given by a guest. I don't have a fancy camera with lenses and all, so this is the best I can do.

Camera: Canon Canon IXUS 145
Location: Shiloh, Israel

And now that I'm both "up from shiva," the intense Jewish mourning period, which is usually after the burial,* and I was also about to write my usual weekly post about my the photo I had submitted to 52Frames, I feel a connection between the two.

macro photography
photography producing photographs of small items larger than life size

When one is sitting shiva, one is supposed to concentrate one's energies and conversation on the dead person, the person being mourned, which consequently makes him or her "larger than life size." In death we are equal. Nobody can defeat it.

For years I've seen the Hebrew word אמת emmet, generally translated to mean "truth," as a verb. The מ ת mem, tof are the root that means dead/die and the א alef when a prefix on a verb is first person future.  So in my way of reading/understanding the word  אמת emmet it means "I will die," and that is the truth for all of us humans.

I don't know of any linguists or theologians who have written in this direction on the word. I am interested in your feedback, thanks.

Links to the posts I wrote about my father, after his death:

Sidney Spiegelman, 1920-2016, 5680-5776

Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, 1920-2016, As An Israeli

My Father, Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L

Modern Condolence Calls, Not F2F

Re: My Father's Father's Family "Three Minutes in Poland"

Reflecting on Sitting Shiva for My Father

* I guess that I still have to explain at some point, not this post, why I sat shiva before my father was buried. But today that's not the planned post.

Modern Condolence Calls, Not F2F

My Mother, Shirley Spiegelman, Z"L, 1925-2013
A great beauty to the end...

My mother, and her younger sister were "shiva champs," both having sat shiva nine times for parents and siblings before their own deaths.
My mother,who suffered from senility in her final years, was not capable of a shiva for her younger sister a few months before her own death, which would have made her grand total for sitting shiva ten. As you can imagine, Jewish Mourning, the "shiva" was part of my earliest childhood, especially since both my maternal grandparents and my oldest uncle passed away in less than a year, before I had turned four. A couple of other of her siblings died before I got married and moved to Israel.

In those days, if you couldn't pay a shiva call in person, or like when my mother's mother died just hours before the Passover Seder, 1952, cancelling shiva*, which caused a terrible difficulty among the mourners as one of my older cousins remembers vividly to this day, you sent a condolence card. I remember seeing them around and even sending some when circumstances necessitated.

You must remember that even non-local phone calls were very expensive until a couple of decades ago, and email/internet/whatsapp could barely be thought of even as science fiction. Does anyone remember the telegram?

My father, Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, 1920-2016
holding the invitation to the wedding of his grandson
which my parents couldn't attend. My mother actually
passed away just a couple of months before the wedding.

It's not even a week since my father died, and I've already sat shiva here in Shiloh, gotten up (before he was even buried,) celebrated the Passover Seder and even had my first "outing" with a cousin and our husbands.

Besides the surprising amount of people who managed to make the time to visit/comfort לנחם me here in Shiloh during my almost three day (Erev/Eve of Passover) shiva, dozens, or a hundred or more people either phoned or sent a wide variety of modern messages.

The beauty of the modern age, and easy communication is that not only family and friends can "comfort" the mourner and show respect, but even strangers who are inspired by the story, or as in my case those who only know me on the internet, facebook or read my blogs. And speaking of my blogs, last night dear friends, extended family (cousins of my father's cousins) called me up and told me that they had only heard of my father's passing from my Arutz 7 blog post. Unlike when my in-laws died, I didn't even think of putting ads/announcements in the Jerusalem Post and Torah Tidbits.  There were so many other things/logistics to think about.

According to Jewish Law, the mourning and comforting periods for a parent last a year, so no doubt I'll be blogging more about the topic and about my parents. And it's never too late to express one's condolences לנחם linachem.

Honestly, I have found comfort in the calls and notes. Thanks.

*When the burial is just before a Jewish Holiday, the shiva is reduced to barely an hour (maximum it could be a few hours until just after noon/half-day), and not continued/resumed afterwards.

Reflecting on Sitting Shiva for My Father

My Father, Sidney Spiegelman, Z"L, 1920-2016
Photo I took just a few months ago, during my last visit with him.

Looking at this picture of my father, you wouldn't think that he had been "evaluated" as suffering from severe dementia. Dementia is such a strange condition. I don't think you can accurately call it a "disease."

During the almost three days I had to sit shiva for him, I tried to describe him as accurately as possible, the father he was to me when he was young, the man many of my neighbors knew when he lived with us, and the person he became afterwards when in Arizona.

Shiva is a wonderful thing and so helpful for the mourner. I'm sorry that my brother and sister didn't have the experience I did. That's for a few reasons.

The first is that my father's death was less than a week before Passover, so I couldn't attend. Because I stayed home in Israel I sat shiva pretty much from when I got notice until just before the holiday started. Actually I had ended the shiva even before he was buried. My brother and sister had no real time for a shiva, not even a short one, like I observed. And another reason is that they aren't involved members of a Jewish community.

"Shiva" the mourning period is a complex time according to Jewish Law. "Shiva" comes from the word sheva, seven and is that because under normal conditions, for seven days after a person is buried, the close family members, children, siblings and spouse, are supposed to take a break from their normal routines and responsibilities. The community and family members not required to "sit shiva" are to take over and take care of the mourner. Food and household chores are to be done by them, so the mourner can concentrate on being together, when applicable, and telling those coming to comfort לנחם linachem about the person who had passed away.

Those coming to comfort are to remember not to bring up other topics unless the mourner specifically asks. Generally, one isn't supposed to speak unless the mourner initiates conversation. But it's acceptable to ask about the dead family member, like:

• How old was he/she?
• What did he/she do?
• Where was he/she born?
• How old?

Yes, questions that will facilitate talk by the mourner. Most of the time, the people who came to comfort really kept the conversation on proper target, and I did find it very comforting. But I must admit that the rare times when visitors were too busy trying to "entertain" with their own news got not only me, but others in the room annoyed and upset. Sometimes I could get it back on track by starting to distribute pictures of my father, especially from his service in the U.S. Navy during World War Two. People usually got the hint and started asking good questions. 

Sitting shiva on my own was particularly exhausting. It also meant that when someone called me own the phone as a "shiva call" I had to speak even when the room was full. Those calls were important, as important as those who had been able to come to the house. Everyone understood that. 

Neighbors brought food for me to eat while I was sitting shiva. Normally, in previous times when my husband sat for his parents and I sat for my mother, the kids and I took care of all the meals. But this time, since it was just before Passover, and the cleaning and Passover cleaning had to continue, as I sat, though not by me, my children were very busy in the house. I didn't want to ask them to also make me food. My Israeli children, the grandchildren and my husband got the house all ready for Passover. At most I gave some instructions, especially about where things were or where they should be put.

If it had been possible, my children would have gotten a lot out of being part of the talk during the shiva. They would have found it a comfort, as I had.

I had really been hoping that my father would somehow have died during a time in the year when my sister could have come home to Shiloh with me and we could have sat together here for a few days. Many of my neighbors knew him and have very fond memories. 

Now it's already Passover, post-seder. One of my daughters did all of the cooking for us, though she wasn't with us for the seder. We were with two other children here at home. They did their best to make me a comfortable as possible. 

Yes, life must go on...

Better Late than Never, The "Unveiling"

It was a bit crazy to go to the states, davka, this time of the year. It's not like there was an important family wedding or medical emergency with my father (who is in Arizona, where I also went) or someone else important. Even though it's close to two years since my mother passed away, and we hadn't yet done the unveiling, the time was best for others, so I went.

We were lots a cousins together, plus a couple of old friends. It was nice being together.

My mother is buried with her old friends from Oakland Jewish Center, Bayside, NY, which closed its doors the same summer my mother passed away.

I don't think my mother would be crazy about her location in this corner, but that's where she is now. When my father reaches his "120," he'll join her. My sister based the design of the stone on the one by our paternal grandparents' graves in the "Neshelsk" NY cemetery.

After our little ceremony, which we did without any rabbi, we went to the nearby Hunki's Pizza of Plainview, LI, NY. We shared salads, pizzas, felafel and each other's company, which was nice.

Fasting and Sleeping, Last Year I Got Up from Shiva...

Today is the 17th of Tammuz, a fast day.

The fast actually commemorates five tragic events that occurred on this date:

1. Moses broke the tablets when he saw the Jewish people worshipping theGolden Calf.

1. During the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem, the Jews were forced to cease offering the daily sacrifices due to the lack of sheep.

1. Apostomos burned the holy Torah.1

1. An idol was placed in the Holy Temple.2

1. The walls of Jerusalem were breached by the Romans, in 69 CE, after a lengthy siege. (Three weeks later, after the Jews put up a valiant struggle, the Romans destroyed the second Holy Temple on the 9th of Av.)

1. The Jerusalem Talmud maintains that this is also the date when the Babylonians breached the walls of Jerusalem on their way to destroying the first Temple. (Chabad.com)

Without the help of caffeine I find myself napping a lot on a fast day. Normally I don't nap. Caffeine can override tiredness in many people. I use coffee to perk myself up when traveling. My typing and thinking are more accurate after my morning coffee. It (plus extra water) also gets the kishkes moving preventing certain digestive disorders.

I hope that the vegetable soup simmering on the stove for breaking the fast will be satisfying but not too stimulating. I must sleep well tonight.

my mother
Shirley Spiegelman

Last year on the 17th of Tammuz I got up from shiva for my mother. Since people do come to visit on that last morning I got up and put on my "shiva outfit" with the ripped shirt. I was surprised at how many friends showed up. After we talked awhile, the time came to literally get up. The custom is for someone to walk the mourner out of the house, and so my friends and I walked out together.

Later in the day I went to a neighbor for the weekly T'hillim, Psalms. It was a suitable way for a first "social" event after sitting shiva, while still in the Shloshim thirty day mourning period.

I guess that the 17th of Tammuz will now always have a different significance for me.

After A Year's Mourning, Finally Some New Clothes

During the year of mourning for my mother I was pretty strict about not wearing any new clothes. That is the halacha, Jewish Law. There were very few exceptions these past twelve months, and when I did end up wearing something new, it wasn't new technically, since it had been worn by another. Even my work uniform shirts and a couple of scarves were worn for me by fellow employees.

The hat I wore to my son's wedding was worn first by my daughter, she also wore and then gave me a couple of sweaters I had gotten for her when I had been in the states to see my elderly father last winter. I even have some new clothes sitting unworn in my closets that I had bought before my mother passed away.

Just before the twelve months were over I bought a couple of things I needed, including this scarf. Considering our finances not buying new clothes wasn't much of a sacrifice. Even though I work in Yafiz, which is a clothing store, I'm pretty frugal. I do like to buy new scarves to update old outfits. I've gotten compliments on this glittery blue one, so it was worth it. It matches quite a few things.

But to be honest, I must say that did miss getting myself something new, especially when I finally found those sweaters after years of searching. I do try to rework old clothes to make myself new outfits, and I have many things which are quite old. Some things, like a lot of my skirts were given to me second hand. The big miracle is that they fit as if made for me, and a couple that didn't fit me last year now do, thank G-d. Actually I've been wearing them for years. My other daughter recently gave me a few tops she never wears, and they fit.

It'll be nice to finally wear those new things that have been waiting for me. And I should also look for the radio/CD player since I can now have music on in the house....

"Dislocation" and Insecurity During the Year of Mourning

One of the customs I've accepted for the year of mourning my mother is that I don't sit in my usual synagogue seat.

front and center, my official seat, best view in the shul

This custom isn't always observed on Shabbat according to some experts, but since I only go to shul synagogue on Shabbat, and neighbors who helped establish our congregation and instituted many of its customs moved around during their years of mourning parents, I, too, have taken it on. 

From what I read about the custom in The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning by Maurice Lamm, the custom is to sit further from the Bima and Ark.   Since my regular seat is as front and center overlooking them as one can get, that's pretty easy.  That is except for the fact that the Ezrat Nashim, Women's Gallery has pretty much all seats sold and is rather full on Shabbat and Jewish Holidays.  Add to that my sensitivity to drafts and hearing plus concentration problems when there's noise, you can imagine that it can get complicated.  But I think that's part of the reason for the custom.  We must get out of our "comfort zone" during the year of mourning to remind us that life in This World is temporary and just our preparation for the Next World.

Over the past couple of months, I've found a few places to sit in the back rows.  Regulars in shul are used to seeing me there.  But on Rosh Hashanah there were guests, mothers of neighbors who have known me well for years, and they asked me why I wasn't in my usual seat.  I had to tell them that I'm in sh'nat avel, year of mourning my mother.  They would have visited or called during shiva if they had known.  So, I had abbreviated "shiva, consolation discussions" with them.  The custom is to comfort the mourner of a parent for a year, so it was the right thing.

This experience is very much like I would have had if I had managed to make a pilgrimage to Har Habayit, the Temple Mount during shloshim, the first thirty days of mourning. The custom is to walk around Har Habayit to the right, except for mourners in shloshim  who walk to the left.  People are supposed to ask them why they're in the wrong direction, and then linachem, comfort them as a response.

I really feel that this custom, this minhag,  is very fitting, at least for me.

A Crazy Couple of Months

It's just starting to hit me that I've had a crazy couple of months.  Early June I rushed to Arizona, because my mother wasn't doing well.  Also since my son's wedding was coming up, I felt that it would be a good idea to get the summer visit over as soon as I could. 

Within a few days of my return, my mother was dead and I was back on a plane.  Then it was to New York for the funeral.  I managed to return to Israel for most of the shiva.

And then I rushed back to work as soon as the shiva was over.  Since I only work part-time, I didn't "take off" work when my son got married.  I sort of squeezed it all in. 

Now I'm feeling it, especially when people ask me how I am, if I've recovered form the wedding, if things have really begun to sink in.  I didn't really give myself a chance before. And now it's almost Rosh Hashannah, which this year is a challenging three day "yontiff," because it's immediately followed by Shabbat.

I must admit that I am starting to feel that things have changed.  So much is mixed up.

And just like in the middle of a Jewish wedding ceremony the chattan, groom breaks a glass, to remind us all that Jerusalem still hasn't be rebuilt.  We still don't have the Holy Temple on the Temple Mount. 

Photo by Yona Zoref

Sort of Like Cheating... Isn't It?

As some of you may know, my mother passed away two months ago.  As a Torah observant Jew, as a mourner, I'm in a restricted state, forbidden a number of "pleasures," such as wearing new clothes, certain social occasions and listening to music.

I have control over the first two restrictions.  Even under normal circumstances I don't get new clothes all that frequently, and if I do really need something, like a hat to wear at my son's wedding or an unripped shirt at work, I can ask someone else to wear the item for a set period of time.  That way it's not considered "new."  It's not that difficult to decline invitations to social occasions.  It's only permitted if there is Torah or educational content and no music.

Music!  Yes, staying away from music is near impossible.  I can't avoid music, at least recorded music.  At work, in Yafiz and Rami Levy there is always music on.  Even before my mother passed away I'd ask that the volume be turned down in Yafiz, since I can't hear the customers clearly when the music is too loud.  And there's also music on the buses and tremps I take to and from work and other traveling.

I have no control over this music.  It's part of life.  I'm not in charge.  And even more troubling... I love music.  I find myself singing, humming and sometimes even dancing along...

Never Too Late, Forgiveness and Comfort

Yesterday was Tisha B'Av, the ninth of the Jewish Month of Av, a day full of tragedy in Jewish History.  Our sages tell us that the Second Temple was destroyed because of sins between people, holding grudges and taking out revenge.

My mother passed away just a month ago, and I'm finishing off an extended* shloshim, the thirty days from burial, a period of time in which the mourner is required to restrict oneself from pleasures, such as luxuriating in a bathtub, wearing new clothes, cutting hair, manicures/pedicures, listening to music, going to social events etc.  For most mourners, that is those who are mourning a spouse, sibling or child, the official mourning ends with the shloshim, but for a parent it lasts a full twelve months (according to the Jewish Calendar.)  The additional months are less restrictive; the hygienic acts of bathing/swimming, haircutting, manicures/pedicures are allowed.

Jewish Law requires a mourner to be comforted all during that mourning period, even after the seven day shiva has ended.  My shiva for my mother was international.  I began it immediately after the funeral in Long Island, NY, at my cousin's home, then I was in Westchester, NY at my sister-in-law's, then to JFK International Airport where people who realized I was in "shiva mode" with ripped shirt and slippers, said the traditional words of comfort and then I flew home to Shiloh where I completed the shiva.  Obviously I didn't have too long a time in any one place.

I can probably list almost everyone who did manage to visit or call during the shiva. That's bad.  It means that I have wondered why some people hadn't.  Their absence wasn't lost on me.  In some cases, I was (even am) very upset and surprised.  But then one by one, I have gotten calls, or people have stopped me in the street apologizing effusively for missing the shiva.  Last night one neighbor came over, not wanting to take a short-cut in comforting me.  It's a good thing we haven't yet rehung the pictures nor put away all the photo albums.

Of that list of people, almost everyone has since spoken to me.  There are still a couple whose absence really hurts.  I was planning on letting it fester, but then inspired by a wonderful blog post by my friend Ruti, I realized that it would be a terrible mistake.

None of us are perfect.  I'm sure I have unintentionally and inadvertently hurt or offended many.  If I decide to forgive those who have hurt me, there's a chance that I, too, will be forgiven.  It's never too late to forgive and comfort, but don't procrastinate any more.

* My shloshim for my mother is longer than thirty days, because the funeral was four days after her death, and we count it from the funeral, not the day of death.

my mother with a great-granddaughter

Still Writing That Journal

It's almost four weeks since my mother passed away in Tempe, AZ, very quietly and undramatically while napping after breakfast.  Since I played no part in planning the funeral, and due to American laws and customs, the funeral was a half a week later.  That left me in a very strange halachik Jewish Law status.  There wasn't all that much I was permitted to do, or really felt like doing.  It also took a couple of days until I knew for sure when the funeral would even be, which delayed the purchase of plane tickets to New York.

I kvetched on facebook about my forced inactivity, no going to work, no reading fun books, no watching TV or movies etc.  David Bedein--Behind the News in Israel quickly came up with a suggestion:

"You're a writer; keep a journal.  If you don't have a laptop to take around when you're traveling, get an old-fashioned notebook."

So I sent my husband to the local store and he got me a small (half-size) notebook.  It's a amazing how quickly it began to fill.  I wrote a lot.  I started it when I was home. I wrote when in the airport, on the plane, at my sister-in-law's, again in the airport, airplane then home in between shiva visitors.  I even had to ask my sister-in-law to buy me another one. (She got me a set of three from Staples.) I take the notebook all the time with me and write on buses and when waiting and at home and babysitting at my daughter's.  I admit that sometimes days pass when I haven't found or made the time to write, but when I write there's so much to write.

When I began writing it, I figured that it would be a good activity for the first thirty days, aka שלושים Shloshim.  In my mother's case it's really more than thirty days, since the halachik end of shloshim is calculated according to burial, and hers was delayed a couple of days.  Since I haven't committed to saying a daily Yizkor, I did not think I needed the year of reflection that Ari L. Goldman used to frame his memoir of his father, Living a Year of Kaddish, which my friend lent me, so I'd have something permitted/suitable to read.

The Goldman book was the perfect book for me to read at the time.  It's honest and reflective.  It doesn't claim perfection, not of his father nor himself.

Ari Goldman is a well-known published writer, not a blogger.  He wrote an excellent book, which I recommend reading. 

I do plan on "doing something" with this journal I'm writing, most probably make it into an e-book, which can be accessed through one of those e-publishers, or whatever.  If by some strange unexpected miracle, the book gains some commercial popularity then maybe there would be a paper version.  But the main reason for writing this journal is, like my blogging, to keep me sane and express my thoughts and feelings.  It's not meant to be a classic biography or autobiography.  It is a memoir with all the quirks characteristic of that genre.

Memoir (from French: mémoire: memoria, meaning memory or reminiscence), is a literary nonfiction genre. More specifically, it is a collection of memories that an individual writes about moments or events, both public or private that took place in the author's life. The assertions made in the work are understood to be factual. While memoir has historically been defined as a subcategory of autobiography since the late 20th century, the genre is differentiated in form, presenting a narrowed focus. Like most autobiographies, memoirs are written from the first-person point of view. An autobiography tells the story of a life, while memoir tells a story from a life, such as touchstone events and turning points from the author's life. The author of a memoir may be referred to as a memoirist.

I've been including things that some people may find unpleasant, but that's all from my truth, how I remember my mother, my life.  None of us are perfect, and if life was perfect, it would make a very boring read.

PS re: the old-fashioned pen and paper method of writing
I actually find it much more efficient and less distracting than when I type on a computer.  At first my handwriting was terribly "rusty."  I wasn't used to writing more than a few words by hand.  But now I really enjoy sitting with my little spiral notebook and pen.  Of course there will be a need to type it all up, but that will be the first stage of editing, no doubt. I'm not the type to hold a laptop on my lap in all sorts of places.  I don't even have one of those lightweight computers.  I do my "heavy typing" on a pc in the den.  The dining room laptop, lives on the dining room table during the week.  It's more tiring to type on that the pc.  I was taught touch-typing in the 7th grade, JHS 74, over half a century ago. I need a good standard, old-fashioned keyboard.  Or I need a pen and paper.

Getting Through Mourning, With a Little Help From My Friends

It's just over two weeks since my mother passed away.  According to Jewish Law, I'm not even half way through shloshim, the thirty days of mourning restrictions counted from burial, not death.  That is unless the mourner doesn't attend the funeral,  a situation in which the mourner begins shiva and shloshim with the announcement of the death. 

Two days after I got up from shiva, the seven days of mourning in which the mourner is supposed to be cared for to facilitate mourning, I was back at work in Yafiz, Sha'ar Binyamin.  Of course I could have delayed my return to work, but lihavdil like napping and sleeping late when suffering from jetlag, it wouldn't have done me any good.  Well, davka, on that day, when I was trying to reorient myself to the new stock, sales etc. in addition to jetlag and my mourning status, halachik (Jewish Law) and emotional, I suddenly noticed that my shirt, which has the store's logo, had a seam ripped. 

I kept hoping that it wasn't noticeable to others, but everyone saw it.  My boss told me to get another one, even two new ones, since that one was two years old.  I've been working there two and a half years.  One of the restrictions on mourners during shloshim and when mourning parents for a year is not getting new clothes.  I felt paralyzed and just couldn't go through looking for another shirt that fit in the same size and color.  My friends who work with me took over.  One found a shirt and another wore it, so it wouldn't be halachikly new.  They ironed on the store logo and told me that the shirt was ready.

Thank G-d for good friends!

Trying to Get Back on Track

As many of you know, I just got up from sitting shiva, the weeklong Jewish mourning practice, for my mother yesterday.

After getting up from shiva, which is literally how shiva ends, it was very hard to dive into the household tasks, do an inventory of the food in the fridge, freezer, closets and piled all over the place.  In all honesty, it wasn't because I was miserable, it was physical.  First of all it was a fast day yesterday, the 17th of Tammuz, and my energy levels are always very low without starting the day drinking lots of water and coffee.  I have to flush out my system.

Why was there food piled up, ok, mostly juices and soda?  I received a "shiva package" from work.  I guess it pays to be associated with a major supermarket chain.  I have to figure out what to do with the leftovers.  If I had sat all the shiva at home, much more would have gone.  My kids, neighbors and other visitors were also very generous, bringing lots of food and stuff.

Another reason, I'm having trouble doing everything is that those four long airplane trips in recent weeks sure made me feel like a cripple.  The good part about the flying was the long walks I took in the airport.

There will be a new "normal" now.

One of the very last pictures taken of me and my mother together less than a week before she died.

"Get Up" From Shiva קומי Kumi

קומי Kumi, Get up

That's what's said to the female mourner to her up from shiva.  Then you're supposed to literally get up and leave the house, at least to walk around the corner.

My mother is now with her old friends and neighbors of the Oakland Jewish Center, Bayside, NY.  My ripped shirt is in the trash.  I've showered and put on clean clothes.  There's a wash in the machine.  Life is sort of returning to "normal."

Why "sort of?"  Well, it's a new "normal."

Mourning a parent doesn't end at the cemetery, nor at the end of shiva, the Jewish ritual of seven days of mourning.

Jewish Law takes mourning very seriously, and mourning a parent is the most extensive mourning period.  It's supposed to last a year.  Other close relatives, a child, sibling or spouse are only halachikly (by Jewish Law) mourned a month.

During the first month for a parent, there are many restrictions, such as no swimming.  After the first month there are fewer.  I'm not an expert.  No doubt I will blog more. Today is doubly difficult because it's the fast of the 17th of Tamuz and I don't functions well without drinking water and coffee.

My eyes keep closing....

The Blessing of a Full Shiva

"Shiva" is actually the Hebrew word for seven 7 שבע sheva.  The same linguistic root for week שבוע shavu'a and oath שְׁבוְּעָה shvu'ah. And just to make things more interesting, the letter שְׁ the "sh" sound has a little dot on the top right.  If you move it to the left, the sound is like an "s." Then the Hebrew שבע sava  means satisfied.

So since my mother died on the 7th of Tamuz, and there's no Jewish Holiday to cancel shiva I get the full seven days, including a Shabbat and time to have been at the funeral, sat with family, was comforted by friends in New York, then flew to Israel to be home in Shiloh, and I still have a full two days of shiva left.

I'm back in my "shiva uniform," ripped shirt and all.

Taking a break from sitting shiva

We're not supposed to do overt public mourning on Shabbat.  So after landing  in Israel and getting home and sitting a couple of hours and being comforted by neighbors, I was finally able to take a shower and put on clean clothes and wear shoes.

After Shabbat I will take off my clean Shabbat clothes and put back on the clothes I wore to the funeral and had been wearing also on the plane.

My kids are taking good care of me.

I was picked up at the airport and bought coffee so I wouldn't fall asleep too early or too late.  When I got home, I could see that the house has been scrubbed and the livingroom rearranged.  We'll be eating a combination of the food brought in by neighbors and cooked by my kids.

I am not interfering.  Yes, I admit that not interfering is tough for me.

I really am sincerely grateful.

I have a super wonderful family and community.

Shabbat Shalom to all

Amazing Funeral, Great Tribute

cross-posted on Shiloh Musings

great-grandmother

Yesterday was my mother's funeral at the Oakland Jewish Center section of the New Montifiore Cemetery.  It was conducted by a Rabbi  ?Klein and with the participation of Rabbi Dale Polakoff of the Great Neck Synagogue. My many cousins plus some friends and other family members attended.  My brother, sister and I really appreciate it.  I was told that it was considered a large group.  I guess it was, because Rabbi Klein had asked if there would be a minyon of men, and we certainly had that.

The cousins, from both sides (to tell the truth, a stranger would not have been able to tell if they were my father's or mother's nieces and nephews) really enjoyed Rabbi Polakoff's description of my mother as "feisty."  This was a great tribute to their Aunt Shirley whom they obviously adored.

Observing my absolutely wonderful cousins in action together, I have no doubt that they all are a tribute to my parents, aunts, uncles and grandparents who produced this wonderful family I am privileged to be one of.
There aren't many families as amazing as mine.

My Cousin Howard opened his home to us for the post-funeral shiva.  He set it up as a proper shiva home, covered the mirrors and had water for ritual hand-washing outside the door.  One is supposed to wash one's hands when leaving a cemetery, but since he knew that we'd be going into the cars straight from the gravesite, he was prepared.  My sister-in-law brought low chairs from her Young Israel of Scarsdale, and my friend Rose made sure there was the traditional "seudat havra'ah" for the mourners to eat.  There was also kosher food for all, since many traveled long distances and we were all mourning.

It was truly a celebration of who and what my mother was and no doubt my mother would have greatly enjoyed the "party."

Afterwards I got back to my sister-in-law's and on old friend from Great Neck came over to "linachem."  His parents had been very generous to me in the years I had needed a place for Shabbat and holiday meals.  We hadn't seen each other for over forty years, but have had occasional email contact.  The Jewish World is amazing.

The day before, on Tuesday, there was a funeral ceremony for my mother in Phoenix Arizona, which my father was able to attend.  My NY daughter was there, too and stayed with my father after my sister and her husband traveled to New York for the burial.  Some of my mother's former caregivers joined the friends my parents had made in a Conservative Scottsdale Synagogue my parents have joined since their move from New York.  Also attending were many friends of my sister, her family and more.

Today the shiva continues at my sister and brother in law's home, then to JFK and my flight home to Shiloh where I will continue sitting until I get up on Tuesday morning, G-d willing.

li'ilu'i nishmata

May her soul be elevated...

Shifra bat Avraham and Chaya Raisia

Shirley Shankman Spiegelman