I am a grateful woman. I am grateful for the force that guides me to walk in faith, eyes up, remembering love.
I am grateful for death and life. I am grateful for my father. For the memory of walking with my hand disappeared in his giant hand, past the Brooklyn Public Library on the way to Kings Highway for hot dogs. Alone with my dad, me about four. Feeling special. Any alone time with a parent after my sister was born was a big deal.
I am grateful for this photo. For the love in my father’s eyes and the smile on his face as he looks in my general direction. This is a very intimate moment for my father and me. Glad for this image.
I think this shot appears three or four times in my blog. A sign of how much I love it. Combined with my laziness. I could dig out more photos and scan and upload them. Sigh.
I might. I will. Not today.
I am grateful for a beautifully made bed and mindfully made tea. No radio on this morning. Quiet.
I am grateful for the awareness of this stage of mourning. My tradition — Judaism — calls it sheloshim. As defined here:
This period consists of the thirty days (counting the seven days of shivah) following burial. The mourner is encouraged to leave the house after shivah and to slowly rejoin society, always recognizing that enough time has not yet elapsed to assume full, normal social relations.
Shaving and haircutting for mourners is still generally prohibited, as is cutting the nails, and washing the body all at once for delight (as opposed to washing for cleanliness which is required).
Helps me have acceptance for the need to be quiet and alone a lot. And yes, I’m slowly rejoining society. I have some social plans this weekend. A bit of dancing tonight (please goddess give me the will to show up for this!). Amazon sabbat ritual tomorrow. And friends Sunday afternoon. Clothing swap and dinner and a movie.
Time has come for me to move on with my morning. Email replies to be written and a bit of work to be done before breakfast.
Blessed be blessed be blessed be!
