{"id":2053,"date":"2011-04-03T22:35:41","date_gmt":"2011-04-04T05:35:41","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/?p=2053"},"modified":"2011-04-03T22:53:43","modified_gmt":"2011-04-04T05:53:43","slug":"black-humour-and-other-happenings-at-a-jewish-funeral-part-three","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/black-humour-and-other-happenings-at-a-jewish-funeral-part-three\/","title":{"rendered":"Black Humour And Other Happenings At A Jewish Funeral — Part Three"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>My dad\u2019s funeral was on a Monday in 1996, in Winnipeg.\u00a0 It was a graveside service on an overcast fall day.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t shed many tears at the funeral.\u00a0 I think that I had already said my goodbyes long before his burial.\u00a0 Still, as I saw my dad\u2019s casket being lowered into the ground, tears trickled down my cheeks.\u00a0 In Judaism, the casket is minimalist and is made of cedar.\u00a0 No rich or poor in burial; we are all equals at death.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Some old bibles were thrown into the excavation \u2013 this is considered to be a blessing for the deceased.\u00a0 As the coffin was lowered, my mom, brother and I recited the Hebrew mourners\u2019 prayer.\u00a0 It is this prayer that is to be repeated during the first full year after a loved one\u2019s death.\u00a0 It is a way of honouring the dead and helping the deceased soul evolve. The prayer praises God even during times of sorrow.\u00a0 One by one, we took one or two shovelfuls of soil to cover the coffin.\u00a0 The Rabbi in attendance explained that this is akin to covering a child with a blanket while putting a child to bed.\u00a0 I liked that image.<\/p>\n

My brother Joel did a moving eulogy starting with the words, \u201cToday I wear my father\u2019s coat.\u201d \u00a0He spoke about how my father taught him how to love. \u00a0We ended the graveside service untraditionally as Joel led us to sing one of Dad\u2019s favourite wartime songs popularized by Vera Lynn<\/a>.\u00a0 We had listened to that song many times during the seven months prior to my dad\u2019s death.\u00a0 Although written to comfort soldiers and their families during World War II, for us the lyrics took on spiritual meaning.\u00a0 For us it was a declaration of sorts that there is an afterlife and that death is not really the end.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The opening lyrics are: \u00a0<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWe\u2019ll meet again, don\u2019t know where, don\u2019t know when
\n<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 But you know we\u2019ll meet again some sunny day.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

While walking back to the limousine, I overheard my friend Joan ask the Rabbi if he had noticed the seagulls circling about.\u00a0 \u201cThat is the soul,\u201d he responded.\u00a0 Ever since my dad died there seemed to be a theme evident in the form of birds sending messages.<\/p>\n

Black Humour at the Shiva<\/strong><\/p>\n

After the funeral, we silently rode back to my parents\u2019 house to begin the Shiva<\/a>.\u00a0\u00a0A bowl of water along with a towel was waiting for us just outside the door.\u00a0 This ritual marked leaving the cemetery behind and moving on in life.\u00a0 As Jewish tradition dictates, mirrors had already been covered with sheets to remind us that we should not be concerned with vanity as we mourn.\u00a0<\/p>\n

I entered the house feeling relief that the funeral was over.\u00a0 I gathered with my friends in the den.\u00a0 It was this very room that had housed my dad\u2019s hospital bed for most of his last month of life.\u00a0\u00a0I sat on the couch flanked by my closest friends.\u00a0 I was surprisingly calm.\u00a0\u00a0My friend Evy, on the other hand, was crying continuously.\u00a0\u00a0 An older, bald-headed man with a short stature entered the room to give his condolences.\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t sure who he was \u2013 I believe that he might have been the father of one of my brother\u2019s friends.\u00a0 The man headed in my direction but instead of taking MY hand, he sandwiched Evy\u2019s hand between his, shook it briskly, and said how sorry he was about her loss. \u00a0To this she replied, while pointing at me \u2013 \u201cNo, it was her father who died.\u201d \u00a0It was such a hilarious moment and provided much needed comic relief.\u00a0 But there was still more to follow.<\/p>\n

My nephew Simon, who at the time was about four, somehow locked himself in my parents\u2019 bathroom.\u00a0 He tried to turn the locking mechanism, to no avail.\u00a0 He began to cry.\u00a0 His father– my brother Joel–went outside to talk him down through the bathroom window.\u00a0 The window unfortunately was beyond my brother\u2019s height, requiring Joel to jump up and down as he tried to comfort his hysterical son.\u00a0\u00a0 Meanwhile, my husband and some friends endeavored to unlock the door from the outside to no avail. Then they tried to take the door off its hinges \u2013 no luck.\u00a0 Simon was becoming increasingly panicky.\u00a0 We didn\u2019t want to burden my mom with our problem. \u00a0Luckily my husband was ultimately able to remove the locking mechanism from the outside. \u00a0Success at last.\u00a0 Just then, my mom walked by looking confused.\u00a0 We updated her.\u00a0 \u201cYou should have called me \u2013 I have a key for this lock.\u201d \u00a0I had lived in that very house for 23 years, and not once was I aware of a key.\u00a0 But then again, I think that this was one of the first times that somebody actually needed it.\u00a0\u00a0 We all laughed hysterically.\u00a0 Black humour really served us well during this difficult time.<\/p>\n

During the actual Shiva, friends and family dropped in, casserole or coffee cake in tow.\u00a0 Its purpose is to comfort the bereaved in this time of morning.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I remember it being a time of great chaos, especially for my mom who was worried about the guests being fed. \u00a0I remembered my dad, always thinking about my mother\u2019s welfare, saying before his death, \u201cDon\u2019t do it, Rose.\u00a0 It\u2019s too exhausting.\u201d\u00a0 But my mom always had to do what she considered the right thing.\u00a0<\/p>\n

We then made a circle and shared a memory of my dad.\u00a0 My memory was that as a little girl, I would stand on my father\u2019s feet and we would dance together.<\/p>\n

More Messages from Birds<\/strong>\u00a0<\/span>\u00a0<\/p>\n

A few days after the Shiva, my husband decided to cut the grass in anticipation of winter.\u00a0 He came barrelling into the house saying, “You are not going to believe what I\u2019m about to say.”\u00a0 Apparently, he had seen a seagull circle the house not once, but three times.\u00a0 In Judaism, it is believed that the soul takes approximately the length of the Shiva to realize that it is no longer attached to the former body.\u00a0 Traditionally, after 7 days of sitting Shiva, the bereaved walk around the house or block three times as a way of telling the soul that it is now free.\u00a0 Well in this case, it was birds.\u00a0 Not that I think that Dad was now \u201cJonathon Livingston Seagull.\u201d \u00a0Instead, I saw these bird messages as signs from God that the soul of my dad was now free to move on, and that his time on this earth in that body had come to an end.\u00a0 After that, there were no more messages from birds.\u00a0 Still, every so often when a seagull comes near me, I think of my dad.<\/p>\n

A Personal New Age Ritual:<\/strong><\/p>\n

About a month after my dad died, I wanted to do a private ritual to mark the end of my dad\u2019s life and to purify the room in our house where he had died.\u00a0 My friend and mentor, Barbara Yussack, who has since passed on, helped me plan this ceremony.\u00a0 Eight women came to my house for this purification ceremony.\"\"<\/a>\u00a0 From my mom, I borrowed a tablecloth which had a beautiful labyrinth pattern.\u00a0 On it, we placed an egg to symbolize life. To represent the four elements of Water, Wind,\u00a0Fire and Earth, we added a glass of water, a blue wavy scarf, a candle, and a plant.\u00a0 I included my dad\u2019s high school yearbook, \u201c the Torch,\u201d which he had browsed frequently throughout the months prior to his death, his glasses, \u00a0and a kaleidoscope of pictures representing different times and people in his life.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

We sat in a circle on the floor in the dining room where my dad had died.\u00a0 As part of the ritual, I symbolically burned a package of hospital gauze which was needed when my dad was in physical form.\u00a0 We each shared stories of our deceased parents who were on the Other Side.\u00a0 Many tears were shed.\u00a0 I talked about my dad and recalled many memories.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0It made me contemplate how casually we take photographs, never thinking that they will ultimately be used for an obituary or a death ritual. \u00a0Who knew that this potpourri of random pictures would end up on my dad\u2019s alter.\u00a0 We sang songs about life and death.\u00a0 We cleansed the room, smudging with an eagle feather as in an Aboriginal ceremony.\u00a0 We laughed and we cried.\u00a0 One of my friends mourned not having a dad like mine.\u00a0 It made me realize how lucky I had been.\u00a0 To some extent I had taken Dad for granted \u2013 weren\u2019t all fathers like mine?\u00a0<\/p>\n

At one point, we all sat in silence and darkness.\u00a0 At the end of the ritual my psychic friend, Mary, quietly shared with me that my dad was there and that she saw him standing in the front landing.\u00a0 I did not have this vision, but I did have many memories of my dad and my mom, slippers in tow,\u00a0 standing in that front landing talking to us, and our children upon their arrival and departure.\u00a0 When Mary told me this, I felt goose bumps running up and down my arms.<\/p>\n

This ritual for me marked the end of my public display of grief.\u00a0 I discovered that for me the grief was not linear.\u00a0 Instead, it came and went, spiralling in and out of my life.\u00a0 Even after all that I had experienced, it felt surreal that my dad was dead and buried.\u00a0 Even today when I visit the cemetery, I am taken aback to see my dad\u2019s, and now my mom\u2019s, names on plaques.\u00a0<\/p>\n

The first six months were the toughest.\u00a0 I was dealing with my own grief, while attempting to support my mother.\u00a0\u00a0 It was during this time that I found healing in writing, composing poems and recapping the events prior to and after my dad\u2019s death.\u00a0 Little did I know that these heartfelt accounts of my dad\u2019s illness and death, written in Manitoba in 1996 would eventually be published in Thrive In Life, some 14 years later. \u00a0At that point we lived in Manitoba and had no plans to move to British Columbia.\u00a0 Life is funny like that.\u00a0<\/p>\n

I became a member of a club \u2013the club whose members have experienced the death of a loved one. \u00a0Nobody really wants to join the club.\u00a0 It just happens. \u00a0An interesting dynamic happens in that club. \u00a0People open up and share their experiences and acute sense of loss.\u00a0 I found myself having deep conversations with mere acquaintances. \u00a0One day I opened up to my daughter\u2019s teacher who had lost her father.\u00a0 \u201cWhen I see somebody of my dad\u2019s stature wearing a hat like his, part of me thinks it is him,\u201d I explained.\u00a0 \u201cI know exactly what you mean,\u201d she retorted.\u00a0 Our similar experiences were not surprising for after all we did belong to the same club.\u00a0 Yet there is something very beautiful about sharing our sadness with club members.\u00a0\u00a0 It is during these exchanges that these superficial relationships are elevated to a spiritual plane.<\/p>\n

I eventually ended up volunteering for hospice in Winnipeg and in White Rock \u2013 my journey with my dad gave me the gift of being around dying people and their families.\u00a0 At that time it felt like a calling, but this is no longer true for me.\u00a0 Working at the hospice Thrift shop is my contribution in that area, and I foster rescue dogs now. \u00a0I never thought I would survive the death of my parents.\u00a0 But I did.\u00a0 And Life goes on\u2026<\/p>\n

Back to Stories<\/a><\/h3>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My dad\u2019s funeral was on a Monday in 1996, in Winnipeg.\u00a0 It was a graveside service on an overcast fall day.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t shed many tears at the funeral.\u00a0 I think that I had already said my goodbyes long before his burial.\u00a0 Still, as I saw my dad\u2019s casket being lowered into the ground, tears […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[42,3,7],"tags":[143,118,120],"class_list":["post-2053","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-family","category-humour","category-relationships","tag-family","tag-humour","tag-relationships"],"aioseo_notices":[],"views":6892,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2053","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2053"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2053\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2053"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2053"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2053"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}