WattNaNo Drama Pick Winner 2018. This book has slices of my life, a memoir, covering my difficult childhood coping with my mother's severe mental heath issues and my journey today. This is a collection of short stories that can be independently re...
I try to do the right thing as that's my way and navigate a Jewish burial. My mother was Jewish but my grandmother shaped me as a Christian. I am fascinated by my heritage but my knowledge is small. Soon my education increases when I discover that those who worship at the synagogue regularly put into a fund from for the funeral from day one. The reason for this is that the cost of a traditional Jewish funeral is out the remit of most of us. It's a substantial amount and several times the cost of a normal funeral.
My mother never attended services regularly, although maintained her Jewish faith; so I move to phase two and hit the compromise button.
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After some research and speaking to a Jewish friend of mine, I discover it is a requirement that the nearest kin say in Hebrew the Mourner's Kaddish. Now it's a while since I have spoken Hebrew (maybe 40 years) and my knowledge wasn't great then. It's reduced to maybe zero now.
Through the funeral director's contacts, I locate a rabbi who is not Orthodox who will consider conducting the service. Through the magic of the internet, I discover the Mourner's Kaddish translated into English and in Hebrew. If I hadn't done so and be willing to read it in Hebrew, I get the impression the Rabbi would not conduct the service. We have an interesting discussion, about life. Followed by a frank discussion about my mother. An in-depth exchange follows with me being quizzed about my understanding of what the Mourner's Kaddish is and we gain mutual respect for each other. I pass the test and he agrees to undertake the service. Bull's eye.
The day of the service feels like a Monty Python sketch, as we all turn up with no idea what to expect. The Rabbi appears unexpectedly hobbling after recent surgery with crutches and his wife hands out the traditional cap for the men to don.
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We kick my cousin's husband in the shins, when he doesn't want to wear it and get near to shoving him into a passing coffin when he mutters something that sounds slightly inappropriate, which is his irk. Families, you can't choose them.
We wait. The carers who looked after my mother are late but they promised they would come. The small congregation that we are wonder what to do. Only two of us personally knew her. Should we proceed or carry on waiting? It was only a few weeks ago we were at the same crematorium in the chapel next door, saying goodbye to my adored Aunt. My cousin and I grab each other's hand and look into each other's eyes remembering laying the pink roses on my Aunt's coffin. The people who looked after my father for over a decade, never turned up at his funeral and we wonder if these people will.
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I ordered yellow tea roses, to bring warmth to the winter's day, in hope my mother will shine like she use to in a place that is kinder to her than the world she use to occupy.
The service begins and Mario Lanza's voice fills the room with the words I'll be Seeing You as the carers arrive. My mother loved listening to this singer when I was a child.
Soon it's my time to do my thing and I read the Mourner's Kaddish. It's painful and seems to last forever, as I stumble over every word. My wonderful cousin comes and places an arm around my shoulder, whilst I feel my body shake as I soldier on until the prayer is complete.
Mourner's Kaddish (English Translation)
Glorified and sanctified be God's great name throughout the world
which He has created according to His will.
May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days,
and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon;
and say, Amen.
May His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.
Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored,
adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He,
beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that
are ever spoken in the world; and say, Amen.
May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us
and for all Israel; and say, Amen.
He who creates peace in His celestial heights,
may He create peace for us and for all Israel;
and say, Amen.
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In my hand, is a few words I have written and my vision becomes blurred with my tears and my speech distorted with my sobs as I utter them. I feel I have done what is right and been respectful to my mother. Regardless of the circumstances, she is blood.
The insides of my stomach feel twisted and the whole experience surreal. I know she is dead but it hasn't registered inside my brain; I am just going through the motions.
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As I send mother on her way away from the land of the living, I never expect at that moment how her passing would deeply affect me and begin to change everything but it does.
I am still working out why.
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