The Tree of Solace
It is a grey wet day. The sky weeps. It is humid. It is damp. I sit at the same seat in the synagogue I have sat each year during High Holy Days. I look out of the window to the glorious myrtle tree outside. The rain has washed off the hot summer dust from its foliage. The flowers and foliage of this Biblical tree are proud and vivid and ready to celebrate this holiest of the Jewish holidays. For the past two days, several people have commented about the beauty of this tree. Each time I tell them that this is the tree of King David and King Solomon. It is mentioned in the Psalms and The Songs of Solomon. Because of that, we have one in our garden. I love it. This year it gives me great solace, for my heart is heavier than usual.
Once more the High Holy Days have come around. This is the fourth time the High Holy Days are here since Peter passed away. It hurts so much to be without him, that I cannot seem to breathe. Yesterday as I sat listening to the men chanting the story of how Abraham was directed by God to sacrifice his son Isaac at the altar as an offering to Him, my tears seared my cheeks as they ran down my face and past my neck. Two of the men who have the most soulful and beautiful of voices, shared telling that tale and always when they chant, they seem to aim deep within my soul. Their voices twist and turn and twist and turn until they reach the most sensitive spot in my heart. The pain heightens as they recount how the Angels beg God for mercy for Isaac’s life. At last, God relents and grant Abraham merciful reprieve. Instead of death, he blesses him,. My head sinks lower into my chest. I try to hide my wet face and my distress. Why could not He have given Peter a few more years? Why did He take him away from the people who love him? I know that I am being unreasonable and childish to think this way, but each year my pain throbs more painfully during holidays.
It is the second day of Rosh Hashanah. I do not know why the synagogue is half full. Could it be that everyone celebrated late the night before, or is it because it is a grey day? I look at the opposite end of the room. Kelly is sitting there. If Peter were alive, they would have sat together. I look at Kelly’s face. He seems to be feeling sad also. I look at our silver encased Torahs. I silently pray that he will be blessed with health and a fulfilled life, a good wife and children. I wish him love and laughter. Then I pray for the rest of them, for Jessica, for Matthew, for Teal, and for Scotty. I pray for the rest of my family. I pray for people who are ill and in pain and the ones who are needy and the ones who are lonely and bereft. I pray for peace. I pray for my departed loved ones. Somehow that alleviates my pain a bit.
It is said the High Holy Days are the most auspicious. I pray that all your prayers will fly up onto the heavens. I pray that they will be answered. May you be written in the Book of Life in health and happiness. Amen. Shana Tova!