Joy and Tragedy, Components in the Tapestry of Life

Gary Cooperberg
October 11, 2004

I realize that it has been over a month since I wrote my last commentary. I do try to issue them at least once a week, but the last few weeks have been filled with holidays, mitzvot, and both joyous and tragic occasions for me.

Beginning with Rosh HaShannah, I had the awesome responsibility to sound the Shofar for the early morning minyan at the Cave of Machpelah. For two days in a row I had to sound the 100 notes, and then I sounded it again at home for women who were not able to go to the synagogue. On the day after Rosh HaShannah is the fast of Gedaliah, which was postponed to Sunday as fasting is forbidden on the Sabbath (except for Yom Kippur). On that Saturday night our first grandson was born to us!

The following week, on the day after Yom Kippur, our grandson was entered into the covenant of Abraham. Although, according to Yemenite tradition, the father of the child's father is given the position of godfather, ( the one who holds the child during the circumcision), my son-in-law's father graciously bestowed that honor upon me. Yemenite tradition also calls upon the godfather to bestow personal blessings upon all who come to him after the ceremony. It was an awesome experience.

When I completed blessing those to came to me, I phoned my father to tell him the name of his new great grandson, Eliya. My mother was ill with terminal cancer and could not communicate. I told my father of my temporary position as giver of blessings. The only blessing I could think to offer for my mother was that she not suffer.

Three days later, at about ten in the morning, as I was busily completing work on my succah in preparation for the holiday that evening, the phone rang. My father told me that my mother died peacefully in her sleep. I stopped everything I was doing, tore my shirt and blessed the Judge of Truth. From that moment the world became like a spinning top. Although I felt quite capable of driving the two hours to the cemetery in Caesaria, my wise wife, Andrea, insisted that we hire a car and driver. Within less than an hour we were on our way.

Because my mother died just before the holiday of Succot, the seven day (shiva) mourning period was drastically curtailed. It was limited to the short time between the burial and our returning to the car for the ride home. My father, as always, bore his pain with strength and dignity. Even at this time of intense mourning, he was more concerned with our need to get home in time for the holiday. I could not believe that, even as they were shoveling earth upon her grave, my father looked at his watch. Ordinarily I would have gone home with him and mourned together with him and my brother for seven days. I wanted him to come home with me, but he preferred to be alone in his grief.

We got home just in time for the holiday. I led the afternoon prayers in the synagogue and recited the kaddish. Our grandchildren were with us since my daughter left the hospital after childbirth, so it was impossible to concentrate on the pain of our loss. Our neighbors had completed the work on the Succah which I was unable to do, and had also helped my wife to prepare the holiday meal.

The seven days of mourning are designed to comfort the mourner. Yet the whirlwind of the joyous holiday of Succot accomplished the same. Our children left just before the holiday of Simchat Torah, and my wife, again with true wisdom, decided that we should spend this holiday with my father. At least some of the time that we should have spent together was restored as we shared happy memories. The following morning, which was Friday, we returned to the grave to recite psalms. The rabbi informed us that, owing to the holidays, the equivalent of thirty days of mourning would be complete in just another week. A tombstone was ordered and we will return to the cemetery next Friday.

Death of a loved one causes us pain because we have lost someone dear to us. Yet death is but another stage in the eternity of the Jewish soul. The time we have on this earth is very short, no matter how long we may live. If we live our life to its fullest in our attempt to serve our Creator, then the next stage, the eternal one, will be blessed with true peace and contentment. G-d has given us Commandments as tools to enable us to use the limited time we have to prepare for the eternal World to Come. My father told me that he has lived a good and long life. He is prepared for death and considers himself lucky to have lived this long and considers himself to be living on borrowed time. I told him that we all should think that way, no matter how young we might be. For, indeed, life is a gift, and no one knows when it will be taken back.

So let us all contemplate the real reason for living and do our very best to serve our Creator every day of our lives.

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