First week of mourning

She was by all accounts the sweetest, kindest person. Generous and thoughtful, empathetic, hard working and unselfish. Where she was lacking was the understanding that by taking care of herself, she could take better care of others. I’m sure she intellectually understood it, but internalizing it was a whole other thing. For too many years she neglected her mental, emotional and physical health. She was a classic jewish mother who fed everyone and anyone who walked into our house, which was a lot of people.

She was pious and good, but in the months and weeks before her death, during the steep decline from busy about-town lady to weak, gaunt broken lady (always still a lady), she was terrified of what came next. She didn’t know if she had done enough to merit the world to come. She died scared and in inconsolable pain.

No one deserves that, let alone my sweet mother. Now we sit shiva and pray for her soul - though in my stubbornness I refuse. My (very religious) family would say, it can’t hurt and can only help. They are comforted by the rituals and rules that tell them what to do and not to do in this situation, including praying for her soul.

But to me almost an affront to how good of a person we all knew she was. If there is a heaven, she’s already redecorating it.

💔