Posted by Becky on October 17, 2009
I seem to be surrounded by the thought of people dying of late. My mom might have an Aortic Abdominal Aneurysm. My brother called me yesterday to let me know he might have some form of skin cancer and is waiting to find out the results of the biopsy next week. If someone comes to work with a cold, I worry for my boss and I worry about his wife, too. I worry for our Sales Managers wife and our Boiler Operators wife and Kristen, who had the Rock the Cure event last week. The list is getting too large! But then death is with me every day, I remind myself. It never goes away, it is like the air that surrounds me. I’m not always aware that it’s there unless, of course, it’s blowing.
Like today. I went to my local yarn store to see if I could leave a garment for Sarah to finish. For those of you that don’t knit, finishing is the most tedious of knitting. It cuts into our knitting time. Sarah would do it for a fee and she was great at it, which is something not all knitters can say, myself included. So, like I said today I went in thinking I could leave it for Sarah and I found out Sarah had died! It was so shocking and I was so sad to hear this news as she had successfully battled cancer before so naturally when she got cancer again, one just assumes…..
Sarah was born in Israel and she was blessed with that ability to tell wonderful stories that made you feel like you were there. I can still remember the day she told us about the first time she saw snow fall in Israel as a child. I was often amazed as I worked or was just sitting as a knitter that an Atheist, a Jew, a Christian, a Mormon, a recovering Catholic and an Agnostic could sit and knit and crochet (weapons, mind you) while discussing religion and politics with not a drop of bloodshed.
I can’t remember how often some poor soul would wander into the store with a partially finished garment that their mother or grandmother had left unfinished who had passed away. They would come in not knowing what to do with it, but only knowing that it was something that they deeply wanted to have and sought guidance. It was often Sarah who would finish the garment, sometimes matching old yarns or even working without the pattern and it was such a special gift.
I will miss you Sarah, and the table where we sat and knit and shared stories will not be the same without you, but you enriched our lives and we were so blessed to have known you and we will keep that part of you with us and in that respect, you will always be with us.
The Mourner’s Kaddish
Glorified and sanctified be G-d’s great name throughout the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon. Amen.
May His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.
Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored, adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that are ever spoken in the world. Amen.
May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us
and for all Israel. Amen.
He who creates peace in His celestial heights, may He create peace for us and for all Israel. Amen
Posted by Becky on May 8, 2007
I came home tonight after spending a great evening with the knitster sisters to a quiet house. The girls and I had great laughs, the food was okay, the waiter was cute and I joked about the funny things I would put on my blog tonight.
This wasn’t on the list and if you’re expecting funny, look away. This is extremely “depressing”, for lack of a better word. I don’t even know what to call it.
Like I said, I came home to a quiet house. John and Hank were in bed so I turned off the television and decided to go through the bills. Among the bills, and other extraneous crap that is deliverd to my house, I noticed a small, but soon to be powerful envelope. One which I hesitated to open upon reading the return address. It was from my sister and my brother-in-law.
Their lives have been forever altered in such a manner that I still cannot even fathom. To say I cannot wrap my fucking brain around it would be an understatement. Bill’s daughter, Rebecca, was murdered about a month ago by a man. Her cowardly husband, who was soon to be an ex, did the plotting, while some other slime-of-the earth carried out the deed. They will remain nameless, because evil deserves no fucking recognition and may they all ROT IN HELL!
I don’t even feel right writing about this, but when I opened that envelope fully expecting to see the words “thank you” but instead I gazed upon her face I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I don’t know what it is I am experiencing, but the intense expression on her face, the sadness in her eyes, the manner in which she holds her head is haunting me.
Posted by Becky on February 17, 2007
Tonight we went to the beach to watch John’s brother’s ashes be scattered at sea by plane. It was such a beautiful experience.
The sun was setting behind the islands, the sky was clear, there were over 50 people all standing in silence at the shores edge as the plane flew by and made a complete circle around us then came back around and we watched from the shore as his ashes were released into the air like a stream of smoke that fell to the sea.
We all watched as the plan returned, tipped its’ wings and dropped what looked like hundreds of butterflies falling from the sky. After a few moments, rose petals began to wash up on the shore as the sun turned a brilliant shade of red. Family and friends gathered rose petals for keepsakes. One last memory.
It was a wonderful night for his last flight.
Posted by Becky on February 8, 2007
Each life is unique and each death is unique and all the self-help books that line the shelves make for good door stops and coasters. So saith me.
Christians who state “he’s happy now” whilst smiling, in a chipper voice, in front of a roomful of mourners should be cited for bad manners or shot on site based upon their proximity to the greiving widow. So saith me, Goddess of the Yarn Room and all that is Good. Can you tell I miss my Knitster Sisters?
It’s always the same thing, “they’re happy now”, “they are in a better place,” (apparently Heaven is just a skosh past Disneyland) or “they are with God”. It isn’t comforting and what’s worse is it isn’t even profound!
And I can Rant on this issue (I rant therefore I am) because A: it’s my blog and 2: I have had my own experience with these delusional Christians. After I had lost a child whilst being hugged by a bible thumper who was allegedly comforting me whispered in my ear, “God needed an angel.” But wait, isn’t he the guy that can make his own? Not only was it not comforting, but it pissed me off and God and I haven’t spoken ever since. If it’s such a great place, shouldn’t they be dying to get it? I do love a good pun.
Christ said, “He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life shall keep unto life eternal.” You never hear that one in a roomful of mourners.
And I have yet to hear Plotinus quoted and he wrote great stuff.
“For a superior soul, the stars are not only prognostics, but the soul is part of and evolves internally along with the All, in which it participates.”
Now, it may not be profound, but at least it serves as a pleasant distraction.
And speaking of pleasant distractions, Elmo called, twice. We spoke for 15 minutes where he spun my head with ipso-facto-habeous-corpus jargon and that he thinks he might be getting out in ten months and then he called again and he and John spoke for another 15 minutes. From what I can gather he finally got a lawyer to listen to his argument who then sent in another lawyer with students to listen to his argument and they are convinced he can’t lose.
Whether he gets out or not is yet to be seen, but it was great to see John smile again. Elmo always seems to call whenever we are at our lowest and from behind those prison walls he somehow manages to raise us back up again.
Posted by Becky on September 29, 2006
Safia Amajan, a leader in the rights for women, was laid to rest this week after being shot to death while wearing the traditional Islamic Burqa. Safia was on her way to work as director of Afghans Ministry to Women’s Affairs. Her requests for protection and safe transportation had been denied by her government. While a teacher for over 30 years, she also ran an underground school to teach girls.
In 2001, she opened 6 schools and helped teach over 1,000 women. This year alone, over 158 schools have been attacked in Afghanistan because they dare to teach women.
She refused to give up knowing the consequences of her actions because the future of other women’s lives meant more to her than her own.
This week my biggest complaint was I was treated badly by a man over the phone because he doubted my female ability to interpret a specification.
I complain out of ignorance, because I forget how good I have it. I forget I can work where I want, wear what I want, learn what I want and say what I want and I want that for all women. I really do. But realistically, I’m not getting off my ass to do anything about it except send a check or talk about it.
But Safia walked the walk and for that she is my hero.
