Two yahrzeit candles; we remember you.

            My mom died six years ago today, March 15, 2014. On the first anniversary of her death we were traveling, staying with friends. I was aware of the one-year milestone, still grieving, with no mechanism for processing my grief. My WASP-y upbringing encouraged the stiff upper lip, the downplay of emotion, the everything’s-fine-best-foot-forward approach. Our host, Teri, learned of my situation and told me, casually, gently, about the Jewish tradition of the Yahrzeit (“year’s time”) candle. You light the flame at sundown on the eve of the anniversary of the death of a loved one, and it burns for 24 hours. “You can just pick one up at most grocery stores,” she said. It was exactly what I needed.
            I’ve adopted the practice, a quiet, daylong reminder.
            We remember you. You are not forgotten.
 
            Not long after Mom’s death, I pulled out my long-neglected notes on the Rachel Field biography and began to scan through. A jolt flared to the tips of my limbs when I came upon the date of Rachel’s death – March 15, 1942. Rachel died 78 years ago today.
            Jonathan suggested I light two candles this year, for two women who transformed my life, each in their unique way. Given my total immersion in Rachel’s life and memory right now, I was moved by the idea. As we putter along through our day, the two candles flicker on the kitchen counter:
            We remember you. You are not forgotten.
 
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 202: 241 words, TOTAL = 33,146; 26,854 remaining