Finding Joy After Grief!

Can a Sinner be Loved by a Saint?

The High Holidays have drawn to a close, and I find myself deeply inspired by Rav Uri‘s sermons at Temple Sha’arey Shalom on the transformative power of faith. It’s not just about feeling good, but about living a life that transcends the ordinary. After seeking forgiveness for my wrongdoings and preparing for the year 5786, I am still guided by faith and love as I navigate my own brokenness in a world that often feels fractured.

Life is full of many serendipitous moments. There are times when everything feels set in stone, and then, like a sudden thunderclap that wakes us from sleep, we discover a new way to live. On the Saturday after Yom Kippur, I read an essay by Roger Rosenblatt in the New York Times titled ‘After Years of Living With Grief, Joy Has Moved In.’ In this essay, Rosenblatt shares his personal journey of finding joy after years of grief, a journey that resonated deeply with my own.

It wasn’t an instant transformation, but I began to feel joy after the first year of grieving. And with each passing day, it becomes a little easier to grasp, teaching me the value of patience and understanding in the healing process.

My walks almost always take me through Jan’s Memorial Garden in Hanson Park. When I am there, I feel a profound sense of peace and connection, closer to her than anywhere else. In addition to the garden there are two benches. One overlooks the serene river, a place where we often sat and talked.  I always greet her as I walk by the bench by the river, asking, ‘How are you?

Two days ago, during my visit, I mentioned it was Yom Kippur while listing my sins to atone for. I could almost hear her voice from when I was her caregiver, saying, “You are my saint.”

When she told me this, I would often correct her: “Honey, we’re the wrong religion to have saints.”

Yesterday, that memory brought me a moment of joy. As I finished my walk, I said, “If you were willing to love me despite all my sins, then you truly were a saint.

For those unfamiliar with me, the first thought may be that I had the last word in a never-ending conversation. However, this brief memory brings me joy after my loss.

Amen!