The Headstone

Sunday, after a cool, cloudy autumn day in St. Louis, the sun peaked out—just as sunset approached.  As a result, it was a somewhat muted golden hour, highlighting many of the fall colors all around us.   Red, yellow and brown leaves filtered the sunlight.  As Suzanne and I parked our car inside the old, familiar, yet peaceful cemetery and quietly walked towards my parents’ final resting places, their black granite headstone peaked out from amongst the others.  The dappled sunlight was fading, but as we drew near, the golden Jewish Star and the gold lettering of my parents’ names—especially my mother’s—emitted a noticeably warm, welcoming glow, softly beckoning us toward their quiet, secluded spot at the edge of the cemetery.

As we stood before them, with the Hebrew and English letters glimmering, one could almost feel their presence.  This moment was truly a gift, a kind of comforting embrace.  It was the same kind of warm hug mom and dad had always welcomed us with, but now—3 years after my mom’s passing and 13 years after my dad’s—we were being held by them in a different way.  And, although I still miss them both quite deeply, it was an incredibly peaceful feeling.

Per Jewish custom, to signify our visit, we placed small rocks on top of the headstone, adding to those present from previous visits.  Then, as the daylight ebbed and the shadows grew longer, we spent a few minutes quietly meditating and also updating them about some things that had recently happened.  We also cleared away a few errant pieces of grass.  Then, we said our goodbyes and made our way back to the car and towards the gate.  We washed our hands in the traditional way one does when leaving a Jewish cemetery and then made our way back to our St. Louis home, a place filled with many lovely memories.

It was a profound and spiritual moment, truly one to be grateful for, providing solace and reminding us once again that they are still with us, and that mom and dad continue to guide and look after us from a distance (something even more comforting during these troubling times for the Jewish people in Israel and around the world).

This week, I will attend synagogue to recite Kaddish and light a candle for my Mom’s Yarzheit, and to honor her memory.  May both of their memories continue to be a blessing and an inspiration.