By Hyphen Parent | FaVS News Columnist
Will your memory be a blessing or a curse and what are you doing about it? By Hyphen Parent
In Judaism, when someone dies, we say to the surviving loved ones, “May their memory be a blessing,” or, in Hebrew, “zichrono/a livricha.” It’s meant to comfort the mourner and keep the memory of the righteous alive.
Recently, a friend messaged me from a hospital waiting room. A stranger there had obviously received devastating news, and my friend wanted to reach out to him in some way. She reached out to ask my opinion. I agreed with her instinct completely. So she followed her gut, and they had a small moment where she held his hand and offered him some love and support. Later she messaged me that she worried she hadn’t done enough.
I told her a story about my aunt’s funeral. When my aunt died suddenly exactly 30 years ago, I was just a teenager. So much from that time is a blur, but I will never forget the woman in the car.
In the funeral procession, I rode in the very front. For the first time in memory, my normally loud family was almost completely silent. We all sat numb and just stared out the car windows at the drivers and passengers around us.
I was very focused on everyone we drove by. It was a shock to me to be surrounded by cars driven by other people whose worlds didn’t have a gaping hole where a loved one once was.
While we rode with a body that we were headed to bury, these other cars were headed to the office, to a restaurant, to school. I was horrified that, while we were drowning in grief, these people’s everyday lives continued on schedule.
As we drove by, the people in the cars around us looked away. Some pretended we weren’t there. Others turned their heads away from us. No one wanted to see us.
One person made eye contact
However, there was one woman who looked directly at us. Her understanding and compassion was stronger than her fear of death. She nodded her head at me with concern and held my gaze until the procession passed. I watched them all, but she was the only person who not only didn’t look away, but made a point of acknowledging us and our obvious grief.
That woman only crossed my path for a few seconds, but, 30 years later, I still remember her. She was a moment of much-needed compassion in a horrible time.
When I think back on my aunt’s funeral, that woman in the car is one of the strongest memories. She comforted me when the grief was so raw and she continues to do so now. Her memory has absolutely been a blessing.
My friend only interacted with that man in the waiting room for a very short time, but she did the same thing for that stranger that the woman did for me. My friend made sure that man knew she recognized his pain and she cared.
We can care for each other in so many ways. The world is difficult and overwhelming. There is so much need and opportunity to connect and help in huge ways and small ways. Now is the time to ask ourselves difficult questions. Will your memory be a blessing? How will you be remembered? What are you doing to leave a legacy you’re proud of?
The views expressed in this opinion column are those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect the views of FāVS News. FāVS News values diverse perspectives and thoughtful analysis on matters of faith and spirituality.
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