Tuesday, January 23, 2007


I was going to blog about age. Because I'm turning 27 on Friday. And I was going to blog about significance. And how I'm trying to find it.

And how I just finished reading Rabbi Harold Kushner's "Living A Life That Matters" a book that tries to bridge the gap between social and religious significance. In other words - it tells you how to be a good person. In even otherer words - we worry about what our coworkers will think of us, what our bosses will think, what our families and our friends will think. Rarely do we worry enough about what the only one that matters will think...and when we begin to - we'll see ourselves start to behave differently. We start being good for the sake of feeling good.

But that's a whole 'nother blog.

My best friend's grandfather passed away today. And as I held her while she cried, I kept thinking about significance. The world doesn't know her grandfather. But that doesn't matter. To see her cry is testament enough that he was dearly loved. And really...what else is there?

Later, I recite the mourner's Kaddish in my head. Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba b'al'ma di v'ra khir'utei May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified in the world that He created as He willed...

I didn't understand the prayer's comfort when my own grandfather died. But there is something comforting about saying it. About recognizing the world as a play...that someone else has written. And we are simply actors - who can not change every line.

And out of respect, I don't say any lines at all. I sit and I hold her while she cries and tells me stories about him. Because if there is anything other than love - it is our stories. They are the vehicles for the feelings that we leave behind. Little nuggets here and there that stay in our family, our neighbors and our friends.

"Breathe deep," I tell her, when she starts to cry harder. "Manage the grief."

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