A Dancing Yahrzeit Candle
Estimated reading time: 12 minutes, 12 seconds
First Yahrzeit
The atmosphere was solemn as the Friday night service progressed toward the Kaddish. Rabbi Renee read Merritt Malloy’s Epitaph with a solemn yet comforting tone. As she started to recite the names of those with Yahrzeits, I was surprised when she mentioned my wife’s name. It was two weeks earlier than I had anticipated. I cannot believe it has been a year since Jan’s passing. I see her smiling face sitting next to you every week,” the Rabbi said.
It was the first night since COVID-19 that I attended the synagogue service in person instead of participating through Zoom. I felt conflicted about whether to stand up or stay seated. Before I could decide, the moment had passed, and I remained in my chair.
Thankfully, only a few people were in attendance, and after Roger recited the HaMotzi blessing over the Challah, I hurried over to speak with Rabbi Renee. Holding a piece of Challah in my right hand, I explained to her that I had not stood during the mention of Jan’s Yahrzeit, as the actual date was two weeks away.
After a heartfelt conversation, Rabbi Renee and I reconciled and resolved the misunderstanding. Our interaction ended with me conveying my appreciation for her thoughtful remarks about my wife.
“Richard, I want you to know that I genuinely meant every word I said. I deeply miss Jan. I learned so much from her, more than I could ever have taught her. The memorial garden you are establishing in her honor is a beautiful and meaningful way to keep her memory alive.
I expressed my heartfelt appreciation for all the assistance she had provided me over the past year. In response, she humbly replied, “It was all you, I was only there to support you.
As I sat in the driver’s seat of my wife’s Prius, I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. At that moment, I offered a prayer of gratitude, “Thank you, God, for granting me the strength to navigate through the first year without Jan by my side. I couldn’t have done it without the unwavering support of my family and friends. Please continue guiding and empowering me to become the best possible version of myself.”
Third Yahrzeit – Rock Shabbat
As I entered Temple Sha’arey Shalom, it was set up to comfortably accommodate the three band members, Rav Uri and Cantor Rosenman. Drawing from Jan’s love of music and attendance at Woodstock, I knew Jan would thoroughly enjoy Rock Shabbat. Despite the early hours, we already had over a dozen people in attendance, which was quite impressive.
Shabbat Shalom,” I said to the congregants in the room, who responded the same way. Rav Uri entered the room and stopped by, “Shabbat Shalom. Tonight is your wife’s Yahrzeit. Are you OK?” I responded affirmatively and said, “I walked again this morning.” Rav Uri shook my hand and responded, “I have started walking, but nowhere near the distance you do.”
The services went faster than usual with the additional musical accompaniment. When Rav Uri read Jan’s name, I stood up with confidence. I was not alone. I had spent three years standing with others, reciting Kaddish for their loved ones and those without anyone else to say it for them. I knew that tonight, they would be there to stand with me. We can heal when we unite to live and worship in a community.
Rituals matter as much in the modern world as ever in human history. The annual Yahrzeits have helped me find peace, solace, and a way to live without Jan. When I sat down, I felt closer to God than ever.
I am only fluent in English. However, repeating the Aramaic prayer has become easier to understand. I have reached a point where I not only say the words but also hear the transliteration in my mind.
During the Oneg, my fellow congregants reached out with concern, asking how I was coping. I expressed gratitude for their support and took the opportunity to inquire about their well-being. Despite the passage of three years, it felt as though only a fleeting moment had gone by, yet I recognized that I was no longer in the same emotional place where tears flowed freely. This evening, I found solace and strength in the embrace of my community as we gathered to honor the memory of Jan. Together, as a community, we continue to live, heal, and thrive. When I left, I felt stronger and healthier than I had on any day over the last three years.
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
