Cindy Milstein (they) on Nostr: Part II My memory of him, my dad, wasn’t blessed on many a yahrzeit after that. All ...

Part II

My memory of him, my dad, wasn’t blessed on many a yahrzeit after that. All I saw was him tethered to “life support” for months before his death in a cruel suspended nonlife that, in turn, erased any images of him for me when he was full of life—full of curiosity, humor, playfulness, fast and sharp thinking, conversation, engagement with the world.

On this yahrzeit, when the sacredness of life is being so emptied of “value” by everything from christofascism to capitalism gone mad to genocide in Gaza, I tried hard to let my dad see some of the beauty of life through my eyes, so I could see his eyes light up with life inside my head and heart.

I stood by water’s edge, noticing sky and wind and new leaves, watching a pair of ducks gently letting the small waves carry then sweetly side by side, as if in love from first sight and ever more. I hummed a niggun while I tossed a rock into the lake for him.

And his memory felt a blessing.
May it always be so.

(Photos of lakes and flowers in Madison, WI, taken to accompany my musings here on May 16, 2025)