Post by Jenn on Sept 25, 2013 15:52:13 GMT -8
“God, full of mercy, who dwells in the heights, provide a sure rest upon the Divine Presence's wings, within the range of the holy, pure and glorious, whose shining resemble the sky's, to the soul of Ioseph, for a charity was given to the memory of his soul. Therefore, the Master of Mercy will protect him forever, from behind the hiding of his wings, and will tie his soul with the rope of life. The Everlasting is his heritage, and he shall rest peacefully upon his lying place. Amen.”
Sarah picked up her grandmother’s velvet gloves and touched them to her unscarred cheek before she put them in the box. She had though it dirty pool when Ioseph gave them to her; a gift that could not be returned because of sentimental value. Later, she had discovered that he had gifted them out of love and the wish to see them used again.
"Is there anything I can get for you?"
"You can’t give me what I need."
"You can’t give me what I need."
She picked up the small stone, the pebble from the mountain that, until Saturday, she had always carried with her, either in her mouth or in her pocket. It was such a non-descript item—small, gray, smooth—for such an intimate relationship. So tiny to represent what had once been a near constant connection with someone so dear. Placing it in the box, the pebble disappeared into the velvet folds of the gloves.
"What is that?"
"The rip in my shirt? It’s called keriah; a Jewish mourning tradition. It is on the left side over my heart to indicate the death of a parent. Or, in this case, grandparent. It’s why I’ll be sitting Shiva this week."
"The rip in my shirt? It’s called keriah; a Jewish mourning tradition. It is on the left side over my heart to indicate the death of a parent. Or, in this case, grandparent. It’s why I’ll be sitting Shiva this week."
Sarah looked down at the two pictures. One was black and white. Ioseph and his wife, Susan… mother of Aliza, mother of Sava, mother of… her. They both looked happy. Sarah wasn’t sure what the picture was from but Ioseph was smiling at his wife. The other photo had been taken a couple months back. Ioseph was looking over his glasses at the camera with a very Ioseph expression of patience and curiosity. Sarah stroked each picture with a gentle fingertip before she put them in the box.
"Do you want vengeance?"
"Ioseph taught me two lessons. The first is to never act out of panic because mistakes are made that way. The second is never to act in revenge for it is not a worthy reason."
"Ioseph taught me two lessons. The first is to never act out of panic because mistakes are made that way. The second is never to act in revenge for it is not a worthy reason."
She closed the 5000 year old Egyptian puzzle box that had once held the treasure of a pharaoh’s child. Now it held the treasure of her heart. No tears came even though the grief was still so raw she was sure it would kill her. It took a moment for her to find her voice to whisper the mourner’s kaddish.
“May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified in the world that He created as He willed. May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days, and in the lifetimes of the entire Family of Israel, swiftly and soon. May His great Name be blessed forever and ever. Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled, mighty, upraised, and lauded be the Name of the Holy One. Blessed is He, beyond any blessing and song, praise and consolation that are uttered in the world. May there be abundant peace from Heaven and life upon us and upon all Israel. He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace, upon us and upon all Israel. Amen.”
“I promise you, I will make this right.”
“Then I will trust you to keep your promise.”
“Then I will trust you to keep your promise.”
