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| Thank you Paul M. Rosa for this beautiful drawing of Maria |
I don't know if this was an exact quote, but yesterday in my synagogue a family was celebrating their father and grandfather. He had passed away a long time ago, but in the Jewish tradition, we remember them on the day of their death, celebrate their life, legacy, and family that keeps them living in their hearts and minds.
Two amazing women just had the first anniversary of their death. One year ago my community was shocked at the death of Rashi Minkowicz from Atlanta, Georgia, she was a young mother of eight. Her memory will live on not only through her children, but through amazing programs that she created and documented, like Torah and Tea, which are now happening worldwide.
The other woman was my friend, Maria Rosa Rudes, an amazing Pilates mentor, mother, grandmother, and a woman that lived life to the fullest. We knew each other a short time, but instantly connected, and she will live on in her amazing family and friends, she was truly a special soul.
The quote above really hit home, because I see how memories of our loved ones never die. It is in the Jewish tradition to name after family. I am named after my great grandmother Yehudit, on my fathers side. My older son is named after my grandfather, Tzvi, on my mother's side, and my husband's uncle Eli on his father's side. My daughter is named after my grandma Zina on my father's side, and my husband's grandma Sofia on his mother's side. My Matisyahu is named after all the "m" and Hebrew letter "mem" in our families, his name means gift from G-d.
Feeling grateful for ancestors, community, family, and the Jewish way of life,
Thinking of those amazing souls that are still with us today,
May their name and memories bring celebration, joy, and inspiration to all of our lives,
Coach Yulia
Goodbye to a candle
This Sunday will be a year (on the Hebrew calendar) since that dreadful day,
When from out of nowhere, Rashi was suddenly taken away.
...
There is so much on my mind, but I couldn’t decide,
What things to share this weekend, and what to hide.
So I opted to write this goodbye letter, in the form of a poem,
To the memorial candle which burned for a year in our home.
--
For twelve months now you sat on our window sill,
And in a strange way, our hearts you would fill.
Despite what you represent, our loss and our sorrow,
When we looked at you, strength we would borrow.
The flickering flame on the top of your head,
Was always silent, but there was so much it said.
The flame represents the soul, is what we are taught,
I have now felt that for real, with the comfort you brought.
You witnessed so much as the year went by,
You saw us laugh and you saw us cry.
You saw the strength of the human spirit
But you also observed that we do have a limit.
I wonder what you thought as you sat there and watched,
The things we did right and the things that we botched.
You got to see the beauty and power of a united extended family,
Roots, trunk, branches and leaves, oh what a strong tree.
You also saw true friends, that are there for each other,
Though not related, treating us like a brother.
A community that rallied to their leader in need,
I hope you noticed that and took heed.
You must have been amazed, at the actions of the housekeeper,
Who knew to expand her role, to something much deeper.
When there were bumps in the road, or other kinks,
You surely enjoyed seeing, Hashem sending those winks.
But I know that what gave you the most joy in the midst of the sadness,
Was seeing the children thrive, which must have filled you with such gladness.
When we get home from New York your flame will not be there anymore,
Providing your warmth as we walk through the door.
It seems that now a new phase in the journey does start,
But you won't be missing, forever you will illuminate our heart.
---
Shabbat Shalom
This Sunday will be a year (on the Hebrew calendar) since that dreadful day,
When from out of nowhere, Rashi was suddenly taken away.
...
There is so much on my mind, but I couldn’t decide,
What things to share this weekend, and what to hide.
So I opted to write this goodbye letter, in the form of a poem,
To the memorial candle which burned for a year in our home.
--
For twelve months now you sat on our window sill,
And in a strange way, our hearts you would fill.
Despite what you represent, our loss and our sorrow,
When we looked at you, strength we would borrow.
The flickering flame on the top of your head,
Was always silent, but there was so much it said.
The flame represents the soul, is what we are taught,
I have now felt that for real, with the comfort you brought.
You witnessed so much as the year went by,
You saw us laugh and you saw us cry.
You saw the strength of the human spirit
But you also observed that we do have a limit.
I wonder what you thought as you sat there and watched,
The things we did right and the things that we botched.
You got to see the beauty and power of a united extended family,
Roots, trunk, branches and leaves, oh what a strong tree.
You also saw true friends, that are there for each other,
Though not related, treating us like a brother.
A community that rallied to their leader in need,
I hope you noticed that and took heed.
You must have been amazed, at the actions of the housekeeper,
Who knew to expand her role, to something much deeper.
When there were bumps in the road, or other kinks,
You surely enjoyed seeing, Hashem sending those winks.
But I know that what gave you the most joy in the midst of the sadness,
Was seeing the children thrive, which must have filled you with such gladness.
When we get home from New York your flame will not be there anymore,
Providing your warmth as we walk through the door.
It seems that now a new phase in the journey does start,
But you won't be missing, forever you will illuminate our heart.
---
Shabbat Shalom
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