I put the finishing touches on my last column (“Safeguard your health,” August 29) the night before my husband and I spent three wonderful days up North. Having our plans canceled in June by Iran, we greatly appreciated taking walks, swimming, relaxing, and, most importantly, having some meaningful quality time together.
Wistfully wishing we could add another day, we slowly made our way home. Twelve short hours later, my husband was pronounced dead. We assume that he died peacefully in his sleep.
Man plans, and God laughs. Life changes in the blink of an eye. At times, it just feels so surreal. Having co-authored a soon-to-be-released book titled The Jewish Journey through Loss: From Death through Healing (Koren Publishers), I know that nothing can fully prepare us for the death of a loved one, even if we have written the book and would like to think that we are so well prepared.
Death is a daily and comfortable discussion in our home. As a psychologist working with loss, a former member of the chevra kadisha (burial society), and a senior member of the United Hatzalah Psychotrauma Unit, I look death in the eye every day. These, however, are other people’s losses.
This loss was different. It was mine. After 47 years with my beloved husband, I think I know only too well what now lies ahead. I learned when my parents died many years ago that although I was very familiar with the steps involved in the process of grieving, there were no shortcuts. I also learned that the more you love someone, the more you will grieve. I, too, sadly, have some very hard work ahead.
I am so grateful that my husband died suddenly and without suffering. It is the blessing most of us would choose for ourselves. For those left behind to pick up the pieces, we all want just one more kiss, one more goodbye. Our son says it perfectly: “Abba ticked off the right box with respect to how he would choose to die but the wrong box with respect to time.”
He died at least two decades too soon. We have no answers to the “why” and other big questions, but perhaps our challenge will be to accept that maybe this is as it is meant to be. Our task now will be to explore the “what” we can do, and “how” we can move forward.
My husband was the behind-the-scenes editor of all my columns since I began writing for The Jerusalem Post 25 years ago. If he were reading this column now, perhaps he would have suggested that this was getting a bit heavy. If so, I apologize in advance.
Lessons from sitting shiva
Judaism's mourning rituals parallel the psychological pathway to healing and help enable us to transition through the process of shiva, shloshim, and the first year after death. Having recently finished shiva (the first week after burial) and now being in shloshim (the 30-day period after death), I share just a few thoughts and suggestions:
From the time of death until burial, you are in onein status. This is a time of dealing with details and not your loss itself. We cannot grieve when our loved one lies before us. We are in the doing phase, and in being neither here nor there, this unusual time has its own issues. In your haze, you will just go with it. You will have plenty of time to grieve after the funeral and over the coming year(s).
While not easy, don’t forget to look around you at the many blessings that were also included in your story or in the person you have lost. There are many, both big and small, and they will help enable you to move forward. People, too, will share beautiful stories and memories, and these will help sustain you.
At the shiva, allow others to take charge. Learning to let go of control over your home when people arrive early in the morning and leave late at night – when you’re surrounded by noise, things feel disorganized, and, at times, unrecognizable with furniture everywhere and food and drink in abundance – may leave you feeling overwhelmed.
Nevertheless, in some bizarre way, not being entirely on your own, allowing others to look after you in every way imaginable, not being caught up in appearances or tied to your phone or the news, and relinquishing some responsibility can’t help but remind you of the simplicities in what is important in everyday life.
Shiva is for you, the mourner, and while totally exhausting, it helps strengthen and move you through the first week and beyond. When life as you once knew it seems to no longer exist, the friendship and caring of others is very therapeutic.
Sitting shiva
Shiva is incredibly exhausting. You may want to specify visiting hours so that you can eat, attend to your children and other needs, and rest when your home is quiet. You will also need time to be able to process what people have said and reflect upon what has happened. Those who have sat shiva may have a greater understanding of the importance of keeping shiva calls brief and within the requested hours.
People mean well but may say things that you do not expect or may find upsetting. This is a time when you are feeling more vulnerable, and someone asking intrusive questions that you’re not prepared to answer may be upsetting. Visitors who relay their own personal story of loss or state that they know exactly how you feel are often not helpful. You may feel that you don’t have the capacity for long and sustained conversation. That is normal.
We appreciated our young children in the shiva house, as they were a poignant reminder that life goes on. Their precious questions showed us that they, too, were very aware of Zaydie’s absence. Our nine-year-old granddaughter insisted on handing out water to visitors. She also chose to attend the funeral (with an aunt who allowed her to opt out if it was too much).
Making a shiva call is not easy or comfortable. I was shocked by how many people who did not know us well came to visit. If the situation were reversed, would I have chosen to take myself outside of my comfort zone? I appreciated those visitors so much. People want to be there for you, whether they sit with you and say nothing or bring you food. Such incredible kindness.
Getting up from shiva and walking around the block may feel both liberating and scary. Your life may feel like it has changed dramatically in just one week. It has.
People may have missed shiva or may want to come and “sit” with you after shiva has ended. Sitting again may feel like the last thing you want or need. A walk with a friend may feel okay and help clear your head. You may need more time before feeling ready to socialize.
Let those who are important know that they should continue to reach out to you. Initially, I was so overwhelmed by paperwork and logistics that when I replied to an email, it was often with an emoji. Go at your pace, and do what is right for you.
The grieving process
Grief is a long and painful process. You’ll grow in ways you would never have expected, but like everything else, at first you can’t imagine how you will feel until you are in the moment itself.
Living with such tremendous uncertainty may be one of the more challenging aspects of your grief. You may not know what will upset you and when. Even a “How are you?” may suddenly reduce you to tears, whereas you may feel numb to other things. What felt good yesterday may not feel okay today. You may find yourself angry and distressed when you least expect it.
There will be times when you will appreciate the quiet, not just to “do” but to “be” in your safe space by yourself, alone, and perhaps even lonely. Everything may remind you of your loved one, but for now, how can it not?
As I reflect on our family, we have always tried to have no unfinished business. We say “I love you” at the end of most conversations and before bed. Everyone fights. How you work to clear the air and resolve issues is what really matters.
Put your financial matters in order. While I was happily oblivious to our overall financial situation, I insisted on having my husband lead me through the “what if” scenario while I took notes. I was sorry I had not videotaped the conversation. Even the little things like codes and PIN numbers are important to have somewhere accessible.
Today, it is three weeks since my husband’s death, but in many ways it feels like three months. There are moments that are better than others, and I feel incredibly blessed to have the support of an amazing family and community.
Please, if you have recently lost a loved one and are struggling, reach out to someone. While they will not be able to take away your pain, just by walking beside you they will help to lessen it and enable you to move forward.
You will go on. Slowly and with time, you will put one foot in front of the other – for you, for your children, and for others.
The writer is a licensed clinical psychologist in private practice in Ra’anana, specializing in trauma, grief, and bereavement. The author of Life’s Journey: Exploring Relationships – Resolving Conflicts, she has written about psychology in The Jerusalem Post since 2000.
ludman@netvision.net.il; drbatyaludman.com