Remembering Dad

it is 8:00 a.m. in the holy city of zefat. today is the seventh anniversary of the passing of my father. i have been remembering his last days in the hospital for the past hour. it looks like it is just my sister and myself this year, heading down to the cemetary, together. my son and i are still estranged. i did mention, when i saw him this week, that it was his grandfather's yertzeit. that of course, got no response from my son.

when the year of mourning ends for the sephardi grandmother, later this year, you better believe, that my son will scramble to go out of town to her memorial. i am feeling a bit forlorn. everyone tells me that this is not a 'significant' yertzeit. apparently, after seven years, you are supposed to not care anymore.

i still mourn for my dad. i still miss him. i still remember the day he passed on. it is still, very significant to me. it hurts me very much that his grandchildren don't feel the need to honor him by visiting his grave. while my mother was alive, i would make a family meal every year. now that she is gone, and left me the house, no one will set foot ito my home. and now, my daughter in law, and son won't even come over.

i feel defeated. i feel 'cursed'. the rental downstairs, didn't happen. they guys played me til the end. they wanted to move in on the 15th of the month. i agreed to it. i agreed to each and every one of their requests. i appeared, desperate. they led me on. i lost the upstairs rental, too. i even lost a weekend rental.

i gave up a dogsitting gig. the lady lied about the size of the dog. she told me that her massive pooch was small with a lot of hair. a friend of mine, set me straight. i do have my male charge coming later today for 2 weeks. that should pay for another two teeth to be filled in. i don't get it. i don't know why my luck won't change.

i feel tempted to call my son and beg him to bring my grandson over to visit. i of course, won't. i have to maintain my cool: 'i'm too busy, beautiful and successful to miss any of you' facade for now. he knows only too well, how much i miss my grandson. it is very obvious to me that his wife is behind this. he has to grow up and learn how to stand up to this family. he has to demand that i have a place in their lives.

my sister wants me to say something for my dad at the weekend class. i briefly went through this week's chapter of 'ethics of the fathers'. i wasn't inspired. i have nothing to add. all i do is cry when i think about my dad. i took care of him up until the end. while he was in a coma, i slept outside on the veranda of the hospital, curled up in a chair, for three nights. i gave him a sponge bath when he was burning up with fever. i held his hand while his soul left his body. i even diapered him on occassion. i became his mother. he became my child.

i am all alone here in this huge house. i am alienated from my only son. i don't get to see my grandchildren anymore. i can't seem to make a living. i consider myself to be a loving, warm and caring person. i feel like an outsider in my own life. i just don't get it.

i have to get ready to go to the cemetary. i want to wash off the graves and light candles for each of them. i have print outs of the psalms to read. i haven't made any plans for shabbat. i don't feel like cooking. i don't feel like being with people, either. i am numb. i am in mourning mode.

my dad was not into materialistic things. i never knew him to want for anything, except, of course, his meals. he had a lovely voice and loved to sing. the dementia took away his filter. he was stripped of all self consciousness. he could get up and shake his booty at the drop of a hat. he would sing frank sinatra songs in the taxi. all the drivers in zefat knew him. he was well loved. the neighborhood children would come running to hear him wish them a good shabbes. he would say 'shabbat shalom' every day of the week.

he always said, 'do what's best for you'. someday i will.