Acharei Mot — after the death of
After the death of Tony in 2004 I got married.
The wedding was the same day as his funeral –
terrible planning on everyone’s part.
We left a seat for him at our table.
He broke several of the laws listed
in this week’s text before he left
but he never claimed to be Jewish
so there was nothing to forgive. He was
my first friend to go in the ground.
After the death of Cleopatra,
my first cat, I was inconsolable.
The vet tried everything and
left us with only one option.
The look in her eyes when he gave her
the shot will never leave me.
We put her in the ground under a Buddha
When we sold that house, we quietly
declared our perpetual right to visit her.
After the death of our teacher,
the sweet singer of Israel, we all gathered in
Orange County to take our turn with the shovel.
It was a makeshift reunion of people who
only saw each other once a year. We loved
each other harder than Miriam’s song.
After the death of my mother, I tried to
get past her decades-long inconvenience.
I took care of her possessions and paperwork.
I could have told her this was coming
and she never would have believed me.
I sent her home to her motherland.
Let her rest with her parents. I love L.A.
but maybe that’s where I should go to
some day. A holy land. A family gathering.