Living and Grieving

The Candle of the Fourth Yahrzeit Shines a Light for the Future!

Last week, I shared a heartfelt moment with my friend Chris. I mentioned that it had been four years since my loss and that I was still standing, still here. The words tumbled out before I had a chance to weigh them, and as soon as they left my lips, I felt a twinge of discomfort. Calling my experience through grief merely “being alive” seemed to gloss over something much deeper—a richer truth that warranted more than just a surface-level description.

At sunset on May 18th, standing before the yahrzeit candle, the anniversary of a death in my Jewish faith, I recognized how hollow that sentiment truly was. I have listened to my emotions, embraced them, and welcomed new friends and ideas.

I have bravely stepped into a future that I sometimes feared —a future now filled with hope and inspiration. Throughout this journey, I have poured my blood, sweat, tears, and limited resources into helping others. The support and connection I found in my community have been instrumental in my healing. While some friends believe I am a better person now, all I know is that I am not the same person I was four years ago. My relationship with grief and healing has evolved, and I am learning to navigate it in a way that is unique to me.

I remember crying when I lit a yahrzeit candle for the first time in memory of my wife. Yet, I found comfort in the knowledge that not having met her would have brought me more pain than losing her after almost five decades. On the second anniversary of her passing, I returned home late from Washington, D.C., where I had participated in the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism’s Power of Purpose Campaign, a task I knew she would have wanted me to undertake. The candle lighting felt anticlimactic. Last year, the candle flickering in the darkness danced like a choreographed performance, reminiscent of the dots and dashes of Morse Code, sending me encoded memories like a secret message from the past.

This year, after completing a meaningful triad of love in tribute to my wife, I was uncertain about what to expect. The trifecta included participating in the Big Climb, a charity event for cancer research that involved climbing twenty-six stories just two days after what would have been her birthday. I also organized a community packing event with Bridges and Calvary Lutheran Church in Cranford for our unhoused neighbors on the fourth anniversary of her passing. Also, I walked for 1,461 consecutive days, marking the fourth anniversary of her funeral. These acts were about remembering my wife and spreading love and kindness in the world, which she always believed in. Each activity allowed me to honor her memory and continue the love and compassion she brought into the world.

As I recited the prayers and lit my Yahrzeit Memorial Lamp, the gentle flicker of the flame danced in the darkness of my home, creating a warm and soothing atmosphere. In that moment, I couldn’t help but reflect on the profound truth that “the light of God is the soul of humanity.” It reminded me that the warmth of a first kiss holds a depth that outshines any goodbye.

Love, in all its purity, has this incredible power to uplift and transform, guiding us through even the darkest moments of our grief. While our loved ones may no longer be with us in body, it brings great comfort to know they continue to live on in the love we carry, the memories we hold dear, and the new moments we create. This understanding provides a beacon of hope, encouraging us to move forward and cherish the love we have shared, keeping their spirit alive in our hearts.

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