This coming week marks six years since my husband fell ill, and late in the month we will mark his fifth Yahrzeit.
It’s a minute and a lifetime all at once.
I’ve reached a point where I can think about that year without crying … sometimes. It was a year of illness, loss and grief of incalculable amounts. It was a year in which I lost myself in caretaking, and in which my children lost the safety and innocence of childhood. It was a year of love and laughter, of knowing that we had to say all the things before we couldn’t. Sometimes we did well at that, and sometimes we failed. It was a year of guilt that I couldn’t do more, say more, be more for my husband and my children.
In the ensuing years my three children and I have traveled a path both together and apart in which we have each had to find our own ruts in the road and dig in deeply to figure out where we are going next. The one thing we all know is that we always have each other’s backs, no matter how far apart we’ve roamed. Walking through brimstone together does that to you.
This past weekend my daughter, my joy-filled, lovely middle child, graduated from college. As always with momentous events now, there was sadness mixed in with the celebration. Sure enough, without being asked, her two brothers, one in Israel and on in DC, tuned in to the live stream to watch her walk. They were as proud as I was. They had her back.
The year she was born, her father gave me a pair of diamond stud earrings, my first and only pair. They were to mark a new chapter in our lives, after a very sad year in which our second son died five days after he was born. Our daughter, born one year and two months later, was the balm to our grieving souls. The earrings were a gift beyond measure, and I wore them for many years with enormous pleasure.
As time wore on, I stopped wearing them as frequently. But I always knew they were there, sitting in a special place in my jewelry box. I never lose earrings.
About a year ago I decided that the earrings would be the perfect graduation present for my daughter – they had marked her entrance into this world, and now I wanted them to follow her on her journey. I was delighted with my idea, and eagerly awaited the chance to give her this special gift. I continued to wear them at times, enjoying my final months with them. Until one day, coming home after a trip, I realized that one of the earrings was missing. I searched everywhere but to no avail. For only the second time in my life, I had lost an earring. I was devastated.
A few months later, as her graduation neared, I realized that I could still give my daughter diamond stud earrings for her graduation, and found a pretty pair. But it felt like an empty gesture. And then, remembering that she has multiple piercings in each ear, I realized I could actually give her three earrings – the new pair along with the single earring that I still had that her dad had given me. I opened the box and placed the single stud in between the other two. They looked perfect together.
The day before her graduation, my daughter came to visit me at the home of my college roommate where I was staying nearby. I told her I had some gifts for her. After she opened the package with the mug that said “Not even a pandemic could stop me – class of 2021” I handed her the earring box and explained why there were three. She opened it slowly, and then she did something that I haven’t seen her do since the day of her dad’s funeral. She put her head down on the table and cried. So of course I cried. And for the first time in a long time she let me hold her and hug her and cry with her.
The graduation was lovely. My daughter had stayed up all night and was bleary and grouchy by the time we met for brunch. We both knew that while she was happy I was there, there was supposed to be one more with us, cheering her on, telling her how proud he was of her. These moments will hold this bittersweet duality for the rest of our lives.
But now I know that she has a piece of his legacy to hold onto, to wear, and to understand how beloved she was to both of us. I know that she will always hold her father in her heart, and even though he can’t come to graduation, he will be by her side forever. He has her back.
I only discovered you as a guest on Jenny Lisk's podcast. I am a new widow, my husband actually passed away the day you were on that podcast. This is all so new to me. I was very moved reading this particular blog post. My youngest son just graduated high school and it was very emotional. My daughter has not cried (that I have seen) since the night of my husband's memorial service. She's a tough cookie, on the outside, but so fragile on the inside. Thanks for sharing your story.
Posted by: Angelique Daley | 07/13/2021 at 04:29 PM