your relationships
are the foundation of life
treat them as sacred
My aunt, my mom’s sister, died this evening. It was sudden, but not sudden.
She had been sick for a while. And yet the final moment came swiftly and unexpectedly. I am living with my parents, and from the next room I heard a cry of anguish, an outpouring of grief. The wave of emotion reverberated.
It wasn’t even 15 minutes earlier that I learned she had been placed on a ventilator. In a hospital in Florida. And suddenly, the parlor of death was in our house in New York.
This is blog is written in real time. And although I try to stay away from the overly personal or current events, although I try to write essays that will serve and stand the test of time, this is a deeply personal space. It is the space of my expression, of what is coming up for me in my journey.
And what is coming up today is death and grief. It is in the air this week, from the massacre in Texas to my aunt’s death in Florida.
I’m in the middle of a 49-day journey through the sephirot of the Kabbalistic Tree of Life. Truth be told, I don’t feel like writing about that today. I don’t really feel like writing at all.
Grief permeates. I want to sit and hold it. Writing is a way I express and hold what wants to emerge. I don’t always publish it. But today I am.
Even though I don’t feel like writing about the Omer, I can’t help but notice the theme of this day and how it relates to what is emerging. Today’s day of the Omer is Yesod of Yesod.
Yesod is foundation. It also speaks to our relationships.
Our relationships are the foundation of our lives. It’s that simple.
My mom spoke with her sister at least once a week. When I was growing up she would sit at the kitchen table on Sunday mornings with the big phone on the table, chatting for an hour with her older sister. At some point the calls shifted to Fridays, and to cell phones.
In recent weeks they spoke almost daily as my mom would call to check in on her sister. Just the other day they had a long talk.
Those calls anchored my mom’s week. They anchored her spirit and her soul. Through those conversations she kept up on the lives of my cousins.
Relationship is foundation.
And in a heartbeat, the foundation was cracked. The sob of anguish at death is the cry of a foundation being ripped out from under us.
In real time I watched my mom as her foundation imploded.
I wasn’t especially close to my aunt.
My aunt and uncle lived in Maryland when I was growing up in New York. Visits were rare.
And yet the relationship we did have was impactful to me. I recall occasional road trips down to Silver Springs. Or times when my aunt and her family would visit us.
My aunt would always tell me how skinny I was and how I should eat more protein. My aunt herself was so frail that when they did chest compressions they broke her ribs.
Peanut butter. She always was pushing peanut butter.
I happen to love peanut butter.
It’s funny the things we remember about people.
My aunt always remembered my birthday. For years she sent cards in the mail. I knew they were from her from the way they were addressed, with her clear penmanship.
These are things I remember. They made an impact.
They are a part of my foundation.
I just spoke to my aunt last week. I called to check how she was feeling. We had a brief conversation.
She expressed her belief in me and my abilities to create my next chapter.
I’ll infuse that into my foundation.
We are always forming relationships. Whether short term or long term, family or stranger, each person we meet has an impact. They lay the bricks of our base. And at the end of our days, this is what others remember: how we helped them create their foundation.
What else really matters outside of relationships?
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