This essay is part of the Between Chapters project, inspired by the book. What chapters are you between? How did you get from one chapter to another? Share your story here.
What Chapter Are You…
Leaving:
University graduation for my youngest child’s master’s degree.
In:
Suddenly feeling my age as I near 65.
Entering:
Soon to become a mother-in-law.
My mother died four years ago. As the youngest child in my family and the only daughter, I was fortunate to share a special, warm rapport with her. Since July 2022, her absence has become a presence of sorts: the constant knowledge that she is gone, and the understanding that she is no longer physically accessible to me.
When my father died seventeen years ago, I grieved, but differently. I was a daddy’s girl my entire life, loved my father dearly, and appreciated him and everything he represented. When he passed away, I felt the loss, but I was also deeply thankful that his body was at peace, free from pain. When my mother died, I was also thankful that she could now rest easy, her soul reunited with my father’s, as well as with the beloved family members she had lost decades before.
The chapter of grief for both my parents has not loosened its hold so easily through the years. Although I’m nearing sixty-five years old, I still want to be that little girl again, with my parents helping me make decisions, big and small. I want and need to let go of so many “things” I collected from my parents’ home after my mother’s death, things I am sentimental about because my parents were sentimental about them. But they take up so much space in my home, in my closets, drawers, basement, and garage — and in my heart.
Recently, my husband said to me succinctly: “Time to get rid of all those things. They were your mother’s and father’s memories, not yours. You’ve created your own.”
And so, it’s time for me to truly consider this chapter of grief and recognize how it has manifested itself in my life, and more importantly, what I can do about it. Yes, I will soon be turning sixty-five years old, but just before my birthday in September, we will be celebrating our family’s first wedding and welcoming a lovely young woman as our daughter-in-law.
Although my son and his fiancée are making most of the decisions and planning their special day, I will still have a hand in several aspects of the wedding. And although I’d dearly love to consult with my parents about details and decisions, I recognize they are no longer here. Instead, I recall and incorporate the fine advice and suggestions they shared with me over the years.
When my youngest son recently graduated from his master’s program at an esteemed university, I missed my parents being there with us. They would have been so proud to see him cross the stage and receive that special degree. So I embodied the joy and pride that I knew they would have felt, and in doing so, I felt my own joy expand.
To begin a new chapter, you have to turn the page. Life is all about turning pages and seeing what awaits you. In Judaism, upon the completion of a public reading of one of the Five Books of Moses, congregants in the synagogue rise and say in unison, “Chazak chazak v’nitchazek.” This translates to “Be strong! Be strong! And may we be strengthened!” The triple use of the word Chazak and its derivative can represent the past, present, and future. It is a collective call to strength as we turn the page and begin again.
And so I offer up a prayer for myself and for each of you: May each chapter, whether it has many pages or only a few lines, strengthen us. May the chapters we have lived, the chapters we are living, and the chapters still ahead help us turn the next page with courage, gratitude, and grace. Amen.
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Such a beautiful essay, Pearl. This line really resonates with me: "...recall and incorporate the fine advice and suggestions they shared with me over the years." It's true that after our parents are gone, we realize all the questions we never asked. I have so many. But having been blessed with wonderful parents, I know the most meaningful and impactful lessons are held within my heart. And perhaps, for some of those questions, I already know the answer. Thank you for this essential message. XO