My column this week is on why I wish I had said kaddish for my mother:
Last week was my mother Judy’s first yahrzeit. She died, aged just
57, following a long illness and was buried, at her request, in her
beloved Israel. The family is — naturally — still reeling from our
loss, still getting used to a new reality. How we miss her grace and
good humour, her courage, her insights, her love for us all. It has
been a very long year.
And yet, in some ways, I wish it had been longer. Although my 12
months of mourning are officially over — and life, in theory, now goes
back to “normal” — I feel I have not yet had a real chance to grieve. I
thought that Jewish ritual would show me the way but it played a
smaller role than I had expected or wanted.
To read the rest click here.
Gary Rosenblatt, editor of the NY Jewish Week, also writes about saying kaddish this week, in a way which dovetails nicely with my piece.