There are none. There is no way for me to adequately describe the overwhelming desperation and loneliness that I have felt in the past year. Next Tuesday we will be marking the yahrzeit of my beloved Mordechai. Truly I am not sure how that day will be any different for me than any other day of the past year. Will I think of him more? Will I feel the loss more strongly? Will I want to crawl into bed and stay there for an extended period of time? My mind goes over and over how it was possible that his life could have been snuffed away from us four weeks after a diagnosis was made.
We talked about death together. I told him that I did not want him to die and he told our children that he knew he was dying. I begged him not to leave me and in his usual positive response, as always filled with bitachon and emunah, he assured me that together we would get through this. Certainly he has always been more optimistic than me.
To my beloved husband, I want you to know that as difficult as this year has been for me and for our family, you should be aware of the way I have been cared for by our amazing children. As you lay dying just a few hours before you left us you were assured by our children, surrounding you, that you would not have to worry about me because they would take care of me. You responded to them that you knew that to be true. Every one of them has been showering me with concern and love. I am well aware of the pain that they frequently feel when thinking of you and the large hole that has been left in their lives by not being able to include you in their thoughts and everyday activities. In no way do I ever want to make them feel that their loss is inconsequential in comparison to mine. However, we are talking of two very different kinds of love.
The void for me is so extremely painful. My everything, my every moment of sharing and breathing together has been extinguished from my life.
I still do the same crazy things that I began to do immediately after getting up from sitting shiva. I talk to you as I am walking up the street (don’t worry, I do check if anyone else is around); I do giggle sometimes when something hits me that only the two of us would find hysterically funny; I do get annoyed when there is a problem in our house and I need you to consult with; I do try to make our bed very carefully each day (you were the best bed maker) so that I can carefully read the blanket which you bought for me several years ago embroidered with sentences of how much you love me closing “With all my love Your Mordechai.” Admittedly when you gave it to me I thought that it was quite chintzy but now I cannot sleep without it.
I notice you every time the sun shines through the magnificent foliage. I remember how you and I together would be enthralled with another of Hashem’s miracles. I watch the birds and think of how much you loved your bird feeder and the pleasure that you derived from feeding them and watching them. You loved the glistening snow and remarked how special the patter of raindrops was.
As you would want me to, Mordechai, I am desperately trying to push my way through life. I notice the beauty of the world through your eyes, try to do chesed as you would do, try to be more tolerant as you always were and, more than anything else, I am trying to realize that our life has been shaped by Hashem and that this is what he planned for us. I have many times read the letters which you left around the house for me and it was your wish that I go on appreciating all that we have had and what I have now.
We have always been one. The baby steps that I am taking now are with the idea that they can never fit into the shoes which somehow we wore together. I will pass the day of your yahrzeit as I have every other day in the past year. I will try to be a better person, inculcating all of the special qualities that I was fortunate enough to observe in the many years that I had the honor of being your wife.
Nina Glick can be reached at [email protected].
