Grief & Mourning

There is an eternal essence that persists in time and space —

and this is our prayer to make it part of our awareness 

by affirming its persistence and pledging ourselves 

to act to advance the promise it holds of a better world; 

may it be soon and in our days. Amen.

Let the great essence be blessed through all our actions!

Whether it be blessed or praised or honored or exalted, 

we affirm that it is far beyond any expression which we use to describe it — 

prayer or song, prose or poem — and we say: Amen

We express our hopes for peace and for life upon us and upon all people. Amen.

May the harmony we experience as we gaze toward heaven 

be reflected in a harmony between all who dwell on the planet: 

Israelite, Ishmaelite, and all creatures upon this holy earth, and we say: Amen.

-by Rabbi David Cooper

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

In memory of Roberta and Michael Laric z”l 

Aharon was silent in the face of death.

Sometimes there are no words

And sometimes words are all we have

To communicate

To commiserate

To comfort.

HaMakom yenachem etchem btoch sh’ar aveilei tzion v'yerushalayim

“May God comfort you among the mourners of Zion

And Jerusalem”

Falls so short

And yet the very formula

Grants grace

Giving us words to fill the silence

Linking our discomfort to the discomfort of ages

And ages of comforters

Standing at graveside

Sitting at shiva

Wishing we could do more.

Sometimes there are no words

And sometimes words are all we have

That and a hand on a shoulder

A tear in the throat

A heart overflowing

And the promise to come

When everyone else has left

So, though bereft,

The mourner is not abandoned. 

-by Rabbi Susan Grossman

—

© Copyright. Rabbi Susan Grossman, 2022. Shared with author’s permission. 

The fact that death comes for all of us doesn't make it any less painful. The first year after a death, no matter who has died, can feel like a series of reminders of that loss. Our first birthday or anniversary without a call or a card from our loved one. Or, the first holiday celebrations with an empty chair.  

Jewish tradition refers to this period of mourning as avelut. It is initially marked from burial through shiva, the first seven days, then continues for shloshim, or 30 days when grieving most relatives, such as a spouse, sibling or child. When mourning a parent, avelut continues for one full year, traditionally counted as 11 months and one day. Our ancestors recognized each of these stages, knowing that grief takes time and that it comes in waves.

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

Thereupon Jacob took a stone and set it up as a pillar.

And Jacob said to his kinsman, “Gather stones.”

So they took stones and made a mound;

and they partook of a meal there by the mound.

And Laban declared, “This mound is a witness between you

and me this day. May the Lord watch between you and me,

when we are out of sight of each other.”

Gen 31:45

Dear Beloved ___________________

As I set this stone on your final place of rest,

know that I was here.

I have not forgotten you.

May the Lord watch between you and me

as we are now out of sight of each other.

-by Meirah Illinsky

—

Originally published in Laments & Kavannot for The Journey, produced for Kavod V’Nichum’s annual North America Chevra Kadisha Conference and shared with author’s permission.

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

Today surprised me--

the sun and skies of blue shading

almost translucent,

almost too bright,

studded with clouds

that wandered in stately lines

invisible to the naked eye

and the grieving heart.

It beckoned, this day

of surprises and shaded blueness.

I thought it would be warm;

It's certainly bright enough,

clear enough,

and from my window, 

there are still leaves of green

that cling to their branches,

so it could be a different day

entirely.

It could be a day in spring,

where the wind still carries

a quiet note of cold.

and you waited.

wrapped in stillness.

while I walked through 

gardens just at the bursting point,

and blossoms spilled their

scent of life,

all green and yellow and white,

making the air heavy

and light at the same time.

I collected the dew

and a spray of flowers 

for your table.

And you laughed,

and pressed a kiss upon my lips.

It could be that day,

but this day has surprised me,

its colors and leaves framed 

so neatly by my window,

but there are things carried in this 

day, invisible to the naked eye

and a grieving heart.

There are no wildflowers

to collect along the way,

and the grass is stiff with frost.

My step is much slower,

a stumbling gait, 

hesitating and halting.

Slowly, oh so slowly

with love and tender grace

I lay a spray of flowers

upon your grave,

a surprising note of color, just

visible to my grieving heart.

-by Stacey Zisook Robinson z”l

___

Shared with permission from ReformJudaism.org

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

Deep appreciation to Shomer Collective for their partnership on all of Recustom’s end of life rituals. We are grateful to Coping with the Empty Chair at the Seder: A Personal Journal for Memory and Contemplation, Prepared By Rabbi Stephanie Dickstein, LMSW; The Jewish Board; Rabbi Jen Gubitz; Sefaria Community Translation and Rabbi Amy Ruth Bolton.

 Each piece has been shared with the author’s permission.