5 Comments

Allan- Thanks for sharing this poem. This particular sentence is resonating: "I love it only as a mother can love. The simple things of her little dead." It sums up the coexisting fullness and void of the human spirit--broken but not unmendable. I hope you're doing well this week.

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Dear Thalia, I'm ok for 81 years old and balance problems when I walk. It could be worse.

I agree. Only a mother can suffer that way at the loss of a child. It is seared in my memory as a kid when I would see my grandmother weap at a memory of the loss of her oldest when he was 18 years old. And that loss happened decades before. He would have been my Uncle Julius and of course I never knew him.

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Allan- It is one of life’s greatest puzzles to have a parent bury a child—which defies the natural order of things of course. Not to mention the many years of dedication, sacrifice, and perseverance raising said child without expecting anything in return. I hope you had a chance to enjoy the warming weather outside, regardless of the balance? 🙏

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Yes. Me and my little dog go for walks in this beautiful weather and I hope you as well. Please stay in touch.

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I love this. Rabbi Deborah

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