שמע ישראל
This past weekend I went home to celebrate the Bar Mitzvah of one of my cousins. It was a very special day and he did a fantastic job leading the service and reading תורה. But this story is not about him and his Jewish life, but rather about me and my father.
יי אלוהנו
My whole family was called up to the bima to hear Jonah read from the Torah. After he had finished reading, the rabbi stopped and said a prayer for my father. And I completely lost it. Standing on the stage in front of everyone, bawling my eyes out as we are praying for my dad's health. I was leaning on both my parents, surrounded by love and support. So consumed by emotion and a hope for my dad's recovery. We stand on one side of the stage when it is our turn to say the blessing before and after the reading and then move to the other side of the bima when the next group comes up to say the blessing. I calmed down enough so that I wasn't a distraction for the next aliyah. But I was still crying and squeezing the hands of my mom and sister who were both weeping with me at this point. As soon as I was allowed to step off the bima, I bee-lined to the bathroom where my sister and I just stood there crying and holding each other.
יי אחד
At the party that evening, to celebrate Jonah's adulthood in the Jewish community, my Uncle David came over to me early on and told me that during his toast, he was going to mention my dad and wanted to give me a heads up. I appreciated the warning but knew that it was going to do nothing for my emotions. And I was right. During his toast, my uncle talked about his brother--how brave and strong he is. How he is not letting this disease change him, but rather becoming more of himself--laughing more, teaching more, noticing the little things in life that make it so special. He told his son, Jonah to look no further than my dad for a role model--Jonah needs to look no further to see what it means to be a mensch.
שמע ישראל
This is what was running through my head Sunday night when I finally had a minute to think. The Hebrew written throughout this was the sound track that kept repeating while these images were flashing through my head. It's the Sh'ma prayer, the prayer that proclaims the oneness of G-d in the Jewish tradition. It is customary to say it at night; I usually sing it to a lullaby sort of tune.
My father is doing okay, going through radiation and chemotherapy until the end of this month, and surgery planned for early November.
I love you, Dad
This past weekend I went home to celebrate the Bar Mitzvah of one of my cousins. It was a very special day and he did a fantastic job leading the service and reading תורה. But this story is not about him and his Jewish life, but rather about me and my father.
יי אלוהנו
My whole family was called up to the bima to hear Jonah read from the Torah. After he had finished reading, the rabbi stopped and said a prayer for my father. And I completely lost it. Standing on the stage in front of everyone, bawling my eyes out as we are praying for my dad's health. I was leaning on both my parents, surrounded by love and support. So consumed by emotion and a hope for my dad's recovery. We stand on one side of the stage when it is our turn to say the blessing before and after the reading and then move to the other side of the bima when the next group comes up to say the blessing. I calmed down enough so that I wasn't a distraction for the next aliyah. But I was still crying and squeezing the hands of my mom and sister who were both weeping with me at this point. As soon as I was allowed to step off the bima, I bee-lined to the bathroom where my sister and I just stood there crying and holding each other.
יי אחד
At the party that evening, to celebrate Jonah's adulthood in the Jewish community, my Uncle David came over to me early on and told me that during his toast, he was going to mention my dad and wanted to give me a heads up. I appreciated the warning but knew that it was going to do nothing for my emotions. And I was right. During his toast, my uncle talked about his brother--how brave and strong he is. How he is not letting this disease change him, but rather becoming more of himself--laughing more, teaching more, noticing the little things in life that make it so special. He told his son, Jonah to look no further than my dad for a role model--Jonah needs to look no further to see what it means to be a mensch.
שמע ישראל
This is what was running through my head Sunday night when I finally had a minute to think. The Hebrew written throughout this was the sound track that kept repeating while these images were flashing through my head. It's the Sh'ma prayer, the prayer that proclaims the oneness of G-d in the Jewish tradition. It is customary to say it at night; I usually sing it to a lullaby sort of tune.
My father is doing okay, going through radiation and chemotherapy until the end of this month, and surgery planned for early November.
I love you, Dad
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