| An Open Letter To You...Woman! |
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I can't believe it! I can't believe you are gone from this world. I can't believe it is Erev Shabbat and Erev Sukkot, and I am debating which earrings and shoes to wear as I wait for my lift to the Beit HaChaim (cemetery) in Beit Shemesh, Israel, where the sun never sets. _option_option
I recall our first meeting at a Nefesh conference as though it was yesterday. Both of us were "escaping," as unobtrusively as possible, from a less than enlightening, invited speaker. We looked at each other and said almost in unison, "Why don't they use our 'own' people?" We smiled at the coincidence. Your energy propelled you; I just held on to your pushchair as we went to another lecture. At another point, people were coming over to you and either breathing heavily or saying: "How ARE you?" After I was introduced. you asked me the same question. I looked perplexed and you told me you know how difficult this last year must have been in Israel. You were wondering how I was holding up, working in the ER at Shaare Zedek Medical Center in Jerusalem, what with the terrorists and all. "How does she know so much about me, when I didn't even know her name," I wondered. I answered: "I'll tell you, if you'd tell me why you were getting all those 'How ARE you-s.'" The Big C, the Big MS and assorted other letters of the alphabet followed. I nodded that I had gone through some alphabet letters as well, but by comparison, I was just balmy/bomb-y. You gave your wonderful laugh, and said: "Woman, we have to be friends!" It wasn't an invitation; it was a command, as well as a prophesy. Over years of Nefesh conferences and telephone conversations, we were indeed friends in mind and spirit. At another Nefesh conference, I took a break and high-tailed it to a nearby wholesale shoe store. I returned, with not too much time to spare, to sit on a panel on T/trauma-big - "T" and little "t," as it is called in "EMDReze". I wasn't sure who else was sitting on the panel with me and was thrilled - it was you. "Where were you Woman?" you asked. I showed you my very new, green shoes and after that, whenever we spoke you asked: "What are you wearing, Woman?" I counted myself very fortunate to be among your panel of outside "eyes and ears". This panel crisscrossed the U.S., Europe and Israel. For the many years that you were home- or hospital-bound, you did better information gathering than the CIA and Mossad combined! I would call you to find out what was doing in my hometown and everywhere else, for that matter. I wasn't interested in rechilut or lashon hara', but rather involved the "burning" issues in the overlapping venues of Torah-true Judaism and mental health. How I will miss our transatlantic conversations which always began with: "Woman, what are you thinking?" - and hearing you laugh as we enjoyed yet another foray of mental gymnastics enhanced by your sagacious input, which allowed our minds to soar. So as I chose my large dangling earrings and donned my purple "Crocs," I did so because I knew you'd be asking: "Woman, what are you wearing?" soon to be followed by: "Woman, what are you thinking?" I'm thinking of you, Rivka, watching over your beloved family, and the rest of us - richer and wiser for knowing you. Woman, May your memory be blessed. Judi
Originally published in the Jewish Press on October 25, 2006. |
