Healing

Thursday was the end of my eleventh month period of saying Kaddish for my mom. The Heavenly Tribunal judges a dead person's soul. A guilty verdict takes twelve months while acquittal takes eleven. Eleven months of Kaddish says that the soul was pure.

I'm not an overly religious person and while I do like to go to shul, I never attend as often as I should. When my mom died, I decided to honor her by saying Kaddish as often as I could. I know it is something she would have wanted me to do. She would be proud and my grandfather (her father) must be looking down, smiling on my deed.

When my mom first died, my aunt told me to send a donation to Yeshiva University so the people there could pray for her. I couldn't do that. Prayer is personal. I did not want a stranger doing my praying for me.

Attending services daily was not easy. Although making the commitment was a decision I made out of duty, it turned out to be one of the best decisions I have made in my life. Kaddish is a healing time. Attending every night gave me a chance to pray, and be alone with my thought for twenty minutes. I prayed with mostly the same people every evening, mostly very old men. We did not become close friends, but we became friends. I met my boyfriend here. I met a man who recently lost his wife, but was going on with his life, reading, attending college classes and talking to anyone who talked back. He is the one I will miss the most as I am no longer going to attend daily. (I did promise to come at least once every few weeks so we can keep in touch.)

Thursday night was the end. When the Rabbi announced the end, I started to cry. Everyone hugged me and urged me to keep attending whenever I could. It was an experience I will never forget. I never expected to be able to keep attending services for an entire year. Now a days, most people don't do this. Some of the people I know don't even bother with the week long shiva period. Kaddish may have religious significance but the spiritual healing that resulted from it was what benefited me the most. I'm glad to have the free evenings but I have been rewarded in more ways than one for doing this.

Sol

Sometimes we know we should do something, but put off doing it for various reasons. By the time we get to do them, it is too late.

My boyfriend
just died. I knew he was sick when I did not see him in temple for the daily minyon and for services last Shabbos. I asked about him. At first, no one knew where he was. They thought he was just staying away because he did not like a comment someone made to him. Then we found out that he fell and was in the hospital. He was not a very nice man, most people in the temple really did not care much for him. No one went to visit. I planned on going to see him, but between work and visiting my dad, I never had time. Tomorrow afternoon was going to be my visit. Today the phone call came that said he passed away. I am not going to get to make my visit.

Sol was one of the first people I became friendly with when I started attending the daily minyon.He was a lonely old man and I was just sad. It was nice to see a friendly face while saying Kaddish. Besides, he flirted with me non stop. It felt good to be told how young and beautiful I was, even if the man telling me that was 95 years old.

Sol liked me to sit with him. At first I resisted because I like to hide in the back. I'm glad I gave in. He told me that the thirty minutes we spent together were the highlight of his day. Jack thought he was an expert on everything. He knew more than the Rabbi and knew more about life than anyone. I just smiled and agreed with him. He was arrogant, but harmless.

I really never got to know the man. Intellectually I know that I did not do anything wrong by not going to see him. He never would have expected me to. I hope I brought a little bit of joy into his life. I feel I could have made his last days happier by paying a visit to his hospital room.

Maybe others won't miss him. Maybe he wasn't the easiest man in the world to get along with. But, I will always remember him, sitting in the second row, loudly saying his prayers, wrong pronunciations and all. Sol, I will miss you.