My heart is broken.
It’s not bent or a tiny bit hurt, it feels like it has broken in half.
I am grieving the loss of someone I didn’t know.
I never met. But I know him intimately.
Because he represents all of our children. All of our hearts.
A mother’s heart is divided.
As each child is born, a sliver of our hearts is given to that child.
A piece of me is in that child, figuratively and actually. Physically.
I bore you.
You lived in me. I wondered about your life. When you would come. What gender you’d be. Who you’d look like. Who’d you be like.
My nieces funeral.
A 3 month old baby. A pure soul. A child who never even had a chance to sin. She wasn’t taken for her sins. I am not sure anyone is taken for their sins. The truth is, we never know why someone is taken.
Hitler. He died at age 56. So did my mother.
Hitler. His life revolved around causing death. My mothers life revolved around giving life. Yet they both died at the same age.
I get angry at G-d. I feel like a loving G-d wouldn’t cause such a gaping hole in someone’s heart. I do not understand. I am not Him. But I believe his heart has a sliver of me, doesn’t it?
A mother’s heart is connected to another mother’s heart.
Her heart aches, it bleeds with pain and we cannot just sit by and watch. It wouldn’t be physically possible. We wouldn’t be considered a mother. A mothers hurting heart is like a beacon. Like an animal whose secret language dances in the air.
A mother losing her son. A brother losing his brother. A family missing a piece.
I cannot understand it. I can only feel the loss everywhere in my life, my community, my relative who is only my relative because she is another jewish mother grieving.
If I can muster up any strength to daven, to daven to a G-d I can’t understand, I will say “please fix our broken hearts, please fill the gaping holes. We may need sutures or stitches or even a new heart, but you have those. You are supposed to have everything. The key to this world. This broken world. The pain CAN’T continue on like this. The holes are too big. Too many.”
We are the jewish women.
We helped keep Klal Yisroel going in the Mitzroim. We did not partake in the Chet Haegel.
We don’t deserve this much pain. Our hearts have been divided to accommodate your jewish children. Your precious jewish souls. Please, don’t open our hearts to break them. Fix them. Fix all of them.
A note about this blog post:
I wrote this blog post in April 2021. A boy in my sons school passed away suddenly at the age of 4. I did not know him. I never met him. I never met his mother. But they also had another son in my sons class and a daughter in my son’s preschool. Since this tragedy happened, I have become good friends with this mother. My heart aches for her every day. It wasn’t the right time to publish this blog then but I felt I wanted to publish it now. November of 2021. I express through the written word and I see this blog as some sort of beacon of light. Or some sort of tefillah, deep prayer I express to Hashem, to bring Mashiach. To let suffering end. To help us understand. As we approach the darkness of winter, I arm myself with the knowing that light always follows darkness. We should be zoche to great Mashiach together, very, very soon.