A letter to my father, z’l

Dear Dad,

We have almost reached a year since you died, a year since our hearts broke into fragments, as the keriah ribbons tore in our fumbling hands. We have tried to tenderly mend pieces that will never fit back together, because we will always long for your physical presence each day we walk this earth.

There are so many moments I wish you could have witnessed in this past year. Some were just everyday wonders as the kids grow more independent and resilient, the books they voraciously read, the new baseball skills, the friendships forged in school. I wish you could see the way Michael can uniquely break through my sorrow to make me laugh, or the way Andrew and his family so graciously hosted their first Thanksgiving on Brewster Road, just 10 minutes from your childhood home. I wish you could see how mom, your best friend, honors your memory with each breath as she affirms that there is yet life to live.

And Dad, there are also moments for which I can’t bear to think what it would be for you to witness. It’s impossible to describe what I felt, what we all felt, when we learned 16906 Scenic Place burned to the ground in the Palisades Fire, just one month ago. When Mom and I stood there a few days later, we wailed in a way that resounded back through time, something primordial and wild and deep to the core of the world. This has dealt our family and community such a painful gut punch. My childhood home, our sanctuary of peace for almost fifty years, destroyed in a community-wide war zone raged by a natural disaster has upended our lives. When people ask, with such love and concern, it is hard to find words…because there are no words. In time, I hope we will be able to respond more clearly, but for now, prayers lifted up to the Healer of the Broken Hearted bring the greatest comfort.

Through it all, you still guide us. You still encourage us to be courageous. We channel your spirit which resides in our hearts. And we are trying, the best we can, to be there for each other and to heal. Some days are easier than others, but with the turning of seasons and time, we will keep making our way.

Last night, at Shabbat services, I said the following as I introduced the Mourner’s Kaddish: The experience of loss can be like ink on our heart, writing a new story. And legacy, or memory, can be the ongoing letter we write to our loved ones.

This is my letter to you, Dad, and I pray that your soul has found peace as we pray for peace here on earth and in the realms of space and time beyond our own.

I love you.

Kim