Diary 9/9/18
Richard is present in me in new ways. It keeps shifting, this relationship with his ghost and then simply my internalization of his human impact on my life. It is such an interesting path to walk, this grieving, this waking up, this longing, this fulfillment, this gift of mortality and loss. I feel like I only now begin to understand what it is to be human. I am immersed in a sea of loving mortality at Kendal.
A woman died this week who I barely knew. Her husband was a famous set designer and she was a Medieval art historian. He and I had lunch once when she was in our care center before she died. Then she moved back into their apartment together for a month or so, with hired help, even though she was pretty deep in dementia. Two weeks ago, I was saying good bye to him one night when I had been invited to have dinner with others in the large dining hall. I was standing behind her chair while talking to him and put my hand on her shoulder spontaneously as I was leaving. She did not know who he was talking to nor could she see my face, but she reached her hand across her shoulder and took hold of my hand. She squeezed it gently with such tenderness I almost wept right then. I said.”good bye, Helen”, and she squeezed it softly again before I walked away. Love simply Is, whether we are in the waiting room of death or not.
My dear friend and colleague, David, died yesterday in the early morning. I wrote this poem for him a month ago and feel free to post it now. For those of you who have sung Dayenu at Passover, you know the melody. Our family celebrated this holiday together with David’s. You traditionally leave the door open for the prophet Elijah to enter and you pour a glass of blessed wine for him to drink. Richard and David would take turns surreptitiously sipping Elijah’s wine and point out at the end of the meal that Elijah had been here because, “Look- the glass is empty!” As the girls got older they knew what was afoot and always tried to catch their fathers doing this. When they were thirteen, they secretly folded a piece of scotch tape to the bottom of the glass and triumphantly caught their fathers when their resulting inability to take a sip lifted up the whole table cloth along with the glass. After the children found the hidden afikomen (Matzoh) we all sang Dayenu for one another, choosing one good trait for each person. Dayenu means ‘that would be enough’.
Dayenu for David
Judi Bachrach 7/28/18
Richard, one day
when it is his time
David will join you
I know you will be there
to let him know
astonished as you were
how loved he is
how he is Love Itself
how many individual lights
gather him into their One embrace
and hold him forever
always have
always will
the long dream of forgetting
lost in Always
our dear human selves
at rest in Awareness
the brief separation of
God knowing God
Elijah comes through the door
raises his own glass on high
(he thanks you for the years you and Richard did it for him)
drinks down with a laugh
and softly sings:
If David knew how much he’s loved
If David knew how much he’s loved
If David knew how much he’s loved
That would be enough
Day, Day-enu,
Day, Day-enu,
Day, Day-enu,
Dayenu, Dayenu!
Thank you Judi for your wisdom and deep heart. I put a hand on your shoulder. xo judith
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Dear Judi,
On this Rosh Hashana morning, listening with all my heart to the shattering sound of the shofar at the service, home now, I find your writing.
I remember David Moskowitz from the Pathwork, and your poem, with such depth of understanding of Dayenu, touches the heart of what matters most. You keep reminding me, as did Richard, always, that I am love itself, and in THAT, there is no more seeking, and only the offering up, again and again.
I’m so grateful that you are sharing your journey with us, Judi.
love
deborah jai
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Oh, Judi, I am sure they are together. How much they both are loved!! Thank you, as always, for your depth and wisdom and your Love. Annie
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