Sunday, March 14, 2021

29 Years

It has been 29 years since my dad died, March 14, 1992. He was only 73 years old, younger than Roger is now. A yahrzeit candle is burning for him on the fireplace mantel. A ritual my siblings and I have followed for the past 28 years. Here is a photo of one year's loving remembrance altar to him. 

This is all we have, these memories, these photos, this ongoing love. 

In four days it will be the third anniversary of my mom's death. 

This year we've added something new to the altar, a Buddha statue. It'll be there for my mom too. Thanks to Tara for such a wonderful idea.

24 comments:

  1. This is a beautiful thing to do Robin. And so nice to see photos of your parents.

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    1. Dr Michelle-- It's a long Jewish tradition. I remember my father lighting a yahrzeit for his mother so very long ago.

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  2. O Yes! This ongoing love in the presence of the Buddha's open heart, clear mind. It's always now.

    In looking at everything on the altar, I noticed the potato and the carrot on the plate but couldn't recall the story that went with it, and I knew for sure that there was one. Thanks to the magic of a quick Google search ("new dharma bums" "potato"), I was able to retrieve your post from 2013 which brought the most healing of tears once again:

    https://newdharmabums.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-potato-story.html

    There is sublime light and kindness in your father's eyes. That your mother, you, and your siblings are deeply loved could not be more clear.

    Thank you so much, Robin.

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    1. am-- I almost put a link to that post! I'm so glad you remembered and found it. We love adding the Buddha to the altar. That presence says it all.

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  3. What a lovely way to remember those we lost but still cherish.

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    1. Patti-- It is a long, old tradition that we love carrying on.

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  4. Some dates we never forget. It's a nice tribute to your Mom and Dad.

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  5. I like the altar idea. The Ludlum novel is a nice touch. :)

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    1. Steve-- I added the "altar" idea when I realized that the burning candle wasn't enough. My father LOVED reading Ludlum!

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  6. I was not close to either of my parents and have never committed to memory the day much less the year of their deaths (years apart). I always have to ask my sister. I do have two small, tiny really, jars of their ashes.

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    1. ellen-- It sounds like you have peace with your not being close to your parents. That's a good thing.

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    2. yes, I think so, but sometimes I do envy people who really miss their parents. makes me wonder what their lives were like.

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    3. ellen-- My siblings and I had a 1950-60s city to suburbia upbringing. We came of age in the 60s and my parents were pretty okay with us becoming the hippies we became. They didn't mind that we marched against the Vietnam War, although my father did have some mixed feelings because he was a WWII veteran, but he understood our passions about non-violence. My mom was the daughter of immigrants, and family was center of our lives.

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  7. Sounds like you have many happy memories of your Dad and your Mom. We never stop missing them, do we?

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    1. EllenD-- We never stop missing. True, very true. Yes, many happy memories, sad ones too, but all held with love in our hearts.

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  8. What a beautiful way to mark their memories. I love seeing their love, which clearly infused all their children. Thank you for sharing them with us.

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    1. 37paddington-- I love their presence here on the blog. It's my way of keeping them in my heart and sharing them with the bigger world.

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  9. Sometimes we have to let go.

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    1. Catalyst-- We let go of pain, but of love and memory that lives on in our hearts always.

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  10. What would our lives be like without such sustaining memories. It's a gift that never stops giving, despite the loss.

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    1. Sabine-- It's so true, these memories are the gifts that never stop giving. Yes.

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  11. Twenty-nine years. That's so far away, and yet I'm sure he's still right there. I have always felt that the remembering and the tears we shed are a continuing partial payment for the time we had with the ones we love.

    My father died 21 years ago, and it's still hard for me to comprehend.

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    1. Mark-- It is so hard to comprehend. It's a heartfelt thing to do to remember them and keep their presence in our daily lives.

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