Thursday, December 18, 2003

First Yahrzeit

I have a photograph of Mum in which she can be seen picking up shells on the beach with my girls, oblivious of the rest of the world, just her and her granddaughters. There is another photograph of Mum, which I have always loved, that shows her reading a bedtime story to R.T., who must be about three or four. Here, again, she is completely absorbed in the task at hand. That is all that matters at that moment.

Mum had a wonderful ability to give, to us, her family, completely and naturally, without expecting anything in return. We always knew we were being thought about, and cared for, and maybe that has been the most difficult thing to get used to doing without.

During the Shiva, someone said she lit up a room. Maybe all mothers light up the room for their children, I wouldn’t know, but nevertheless I feel that Mum had a special light that radiated from her.

And here we are, a year after she left us, and I can still feel the light. Like the seeds of a dandelion, spread by the wind, her light has been carried out of her and into us, all those she loved and cared for. It is our inheritance. It may manifest in each one of us in a different way than it did in her, we are different people after all, but it is there. I feel it inside of me. I see it in my eyes when I look in the mirror. I’m not sure where it is taking me yet, but I know it is making me a better person.