“Yizkor?! I don’t even know her!”
That would have been the title of this blogpost if I had any real courage.
Because there can be no reminiscence of my father of blessed memory without at least one awful pun and, although timely, that is simply awful.
If you were to come to my house (and you are certainly welcome to visit!), and ask either of my daughters for a tissue, I’d bet you dollars to donuts that they would respond, “Tissue?! I don’t even know you!”
And up in heaven, in between an eternal binge-watch of “Law & Order” and “Hardball”, a figure in an Oakland A’s baseball cap and a T-shirt purchased in heaven’s gift shop would smile in recognition.
Although yizkor comes four times a year, for me, this one – at Yom Kippur – always feels like yizkor with a capital “Y”. Maybe it’s because of the solemnity of the day. Likely it’s because of its proximity to his yahrzeit (20 Av). Regardless, this liminal week between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur, in addition to all the other spiritual work required to perform teshuvah, has become an annual exercise to think about my dad, his impact on my life, my own fatherhood, and my work in a field where we are often called upon to be in loco parentis.
To help me do this, I have added the following prayer written by Rebbe Nachman of Breslov from his Likutey Moharan (2:7) to my personal prayerbook:
Dear God,
teach me to embody those ideals
I would want my children
to learn from me.
Let me communicate
with my children – wisely
in ways
that will draw their hearts
to kindness, to deceny
and to true wisdom.
Dear God,
let me pass on to my children
only the good;
let them find in me
the values
and the behavior
I hope to see in them.
There are days when it feels like it happened years ago. There are days when it feels like it never happened. And there are days where it feels like it is happening all over again. I am assured that this is all normal and I am sure that it is. What have I learned over the these last two years of fatherlessness? Well, there is nothing more clarifying than experiencing family pain. There is nothing like watching your parents’ love to remind you to cherish the love you are lucky to have. There is nothing like watching your parents’ vulnerability to encourage you to treasure your children. I continue to pray that as a result of this annual unwelcome reminder of life’s fragility that I will be a better husband, a better father, a better friend, and a better educator.
As part of that process, please allow me apologize to all those I have wronged or hurt, intentionally or unknown over the past year. I look forward to working on myself to be the best “me” I can in the upcoming year.
And I hope to take the lessons of my father of blessed memory to heart as I try to follow his footsteps on the journey of my own fatherhood…
That was beautifully written and very real. I can very much relate.