Pre-Pesach Musings

The following message came to Ezer Mizion’s Cancer Patient Support Services staff. The message was sent by Racheli E., a young widow who lost her husband Eliavpr file z”l recently. She wrote it to staff after her children returned from an Ezer Mizion trip for a group of youngsters who had lost a parent to cancer.

 

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Dear Batsheva,

Sorry for the late hour. I want to thank you so much for today. The children really had a great time… You gave my kids what I don’t have the emotional strength to give them now. A day of fun. A day of letting loose. A day of opening up the black curtain and letting the sunshine in. Please pass on my regards and my thanks to everyone. I am sending you something I wrote – a bit long, but nice. Please share it with everyone else at Ezer Mizion. All of you have been with me during this journey. It is to you at Ezer Mizion that I can confide my deepest feelings. I know you understand. You have all been my ‘best friend’ holding my hand throughout and I wanted to share this with you.

 

Like everyone who starts sniffing Pesach on the horizon, the tension at my home leaped to heights.

But this year, that the black hole pervaded every inch of my home. Even if I ppr suitaint it in all the cheerful colors in the world, something will always bring the black back to the forefront.

All year, you try not to bump into things that remind you that the husband who was part of you left behind a garment without a self, a scent without a soul!

All year, you can suppress it. The item of clothing sits there in the same position.

But Pesach forces you to deal with what you fled from all year.

It looks something like this, and I apologize for the outburst.

The shirt!

The jacket!

The tie!

The hands start stroking the fabric in your hand.

You touch the garment to your face and inhale so strongly that the scent penetrates you like a bullet shot at close range.

Until now, the item of clothing remained in its place while you thought, “I am not going back there now!”

All right, I thought to myself – maybe we’ll go to the boys’ room. The anguish marched right inside, without even knocking at the door and asking permission, as if it were the owner of this house.

“Abba used to love playing this game with me.”

“Abba bought me this.”

The sorrow has made itself a permanent resident in the heart.

The merciful Father, who sits Above and looks after every single person, takes care of me, too, and helps His little girl cope.

Shabbat Shalom friends!! On Sunday I go back to cleaning. I got everything off my chest and I prayed that it will be enough to enable me to rally my strength for the things that I could never cope with alone without tefillot!!! Thank you, each one of you at Ezer Mizion, for’ listening’. It makes me feel good to share my thoughts with you and I will forever be grateful for all the support you have given my family both before and after.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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