Twenty six years ago my little baby died during open-heart surgery. His death was an experience of loss I had never encountered with this level of magnitude. It was like slamming into a brick wall. It felt as if there were no more roads ahead, as if my life had ended along with the death of my little sweet baby Sam.
During Sam’s first six months of life, his needs and schedule were the focus of my life. Like any good mother of a new born, I was tired yet happy. That all suddenly came to a crashing end when the doctors could not fix Sam’s heart.
A dear friend was with us in the hospital that day, waiting with us as Sam underwent his "life-saving" surgery. When the outcome was so radically, unbelievably different than what we could ever have anticipated he was there to catch us. He gave us the space to scream deep existential, guttural cries of pain; cries that came from deep inside, from that place where life is supposed to be generated.
That place wasn't green and fertile; it was dark and scary. These screams were deep, foreign, unfamiliar sounds that I will never forget.
Our friend made phone calls, arranged the funeral and paved the way for the next few moments, hours, days...
That night a group of my friends who had known Sam in life gathered together to perform the Jewish ritual of tahara on his little body and prepared him for burial.
In Jewish tradition a body is washed and clothed in white, linen shrouds. The body is placed into the ground, like a seed planted in the earth for the future time when it will re-sprout and rejoin with its soul in the future.
This practice is called a "tahara" and is usually performed by an established chevra kadisha (Jewish burial society). This times my friends, with love and respect and I imagine many tears, bathed Sam for his burial the next day.
How I screamed that day and many days thereafter. At the height of that pain came an understanding that we don't run our lives. We are not in control of life or death. Loss and suffering is real and it hurts. It drains all of your energy and it can take away a lot of your desire to live.
At some point you have to choose to get up and to take the pain with you.
But at some point you have to choose to get up and to take the pain with you; to hold it inside and integrate it with every fiber of your being and let it change you into a new person with this trauma embedded inside of you. Life is never the same. You are now carrying something larger and heavier than you want to bear.
Somehow there is a way to keep moving on. There is hope that life is still worth living.
Maybe I can still live a meaningful and fulfilling life?
Maybe there will be other children one day?
Maybe life will one day feel good again with this trauma embedded inside?
One thing I have done since Sam’s death is perform tahara for Jewish women. It was a way to express how grateful I am for the kind act those ladies did for my son. I imagine that they did not want to go to the funeral home that night but they felt a duty.
For decades I regularly go to our local funeral homes with two other women to purify and prepare the women in our care. We dress them in shrouds and place them lovingly in coffins ready for their burials the next day.
Every now and then we perform tahara for people we know – our friends’ mothers or sisters or daughters, sometimes even for our friends.
A few months ago I performed tahara for my own grand-daughter. How?
With love; with tears freely flowing down my face; with respect and honor; with a direct confrontation with a reality that was almost too much to bear; with courage that this was a good and holy thing for me to do; with a desire to give to my daughter; with an understanding that there is something sacred about a grandmother preparing her little grand-daughter for burial; with a broken heart!
Tahara, preparing a Jewish person for burial, is holy work. It connects us to God. It connects us to the future. It says there is more to life than this world.
Our body is holy and in life it houses the soul, which is the breath of God. Death starts the process whereby the soul disconnects from the body. The body must be returned to the dust from where it came.
What matters most is what we choose to do on that bridge and the impact we make while crossing it.
Death allows us to see our lives as being part of a journey. Life is like a narrow bridge; we come from somewhere and we go somewhere. That bridge is of different lengths for each of us; for some it is very short and for others it is many years. What matters most is what we choose to do on that bridge and the impact we make while crossing it.
Out of my tragedy I’ve learned about the importance of burial and the spiritual, meaningful, loving, life-affirming work of the chevra kadisha.
(9) Yehudit, December 7, 2016 11:58 AM
Heartbreakingly powerful
Thank you Elissa for sharing your devastation and painting it in such a real way that it took my breath away. I cannot imagine the depths of your despair and to go through that again with a grandchild.... may your daughter find the same peace as you have and may your family be blessed with good health and happiness ......
(8) jim, December 6, 2016 10:59 PM
heart-wrentching as you know
only HaShem can console such an experience, may He be fully, completely with you as your certainty of the absolute spiritual continuing life of your precious child. thanks for sharing that spiritual strength with the many who face similar situations.
(7) Anonymous, December 5, 2016 5:02 PM
Beautiful article
I sent this to my family. My sister hose to be cremated,and I feel terrible about it every day. Maybe your article will wake up some of my other family members.
(6) Stephanie Buckberg, December 5, 2016 3:09 PM
So inspirational yet so very sad.
Thank you so much for sharing your story, Elissa! I felt so honored & privileged to have spent quality time with you on the JWRP trip in July and talk about such private family matters with you. You shared your story with me about Sam and I shared that our youngest son who is now 17 was born with heart disease and has had 3 open heart surgeries, his 1st being at 2 mos old. We thank G-d everyday that he is with us! You're an amazing woman who does so much for everyone and your community. Thank you for sharing and for being who you are. Miss you.
elissa, December 5, 2016 8:47 PM
thank you
I miss you too. It was such an inspirational trip this summer and I feel honored to share time with you and your group. May we continue to inspire each other and continue to feel grateful for all our blessings
(5) Amy Greenberg, December 4, 2016 10:03 PM
thanks
Thank you, Elissa, thank you deeply. When I met you on a JWRP trip to Israel in 2015, I knew you were a special woman. You continue to prove that true with essays such as this. Thank you for sharing, encouraging, giving, explaining, helping. You are a treasure.
(4) Anonymous, December 4, 2016 9:48 PM
how can you turn to god.
How can a person find solace with god about a tragedy ,when god caused the tragedy to happen in the first place.
shoshana siegelman, December 5, 2016 5:56 PM
there are answers to your questions
You have asked the deepest question: how can a good God do things that to us seem so far from good. This woman of faith has found answers, she knows that her son's Creator both gave him and took him away, and yet she loves Him and trusts that all He does is for the good. I can't give you the answer you need, but please know the answer exists, find a good rabbi and talk from your heart, or go on Ask the Rabbi here at Aish. Having the answer to this question makes life so much more bearable. I wish you success in getting to that place too.
Anonymous, December 5, 2016 8:57 PM
solace
Thank you for your comment.
I have no idea why these traumatic events happen and why there is pain in the world. But I do know that this world is finite. Also our job is to live in ways that bring goodness and Holiness into the world
Anonymous, December 7, 2016 4:13 AM
in reply to anonymous
Just like a child who is upset by a recent parental disciplinary action finds solace in the arms of his parent, so too may we find solace in G-d. The difference is that presumably the child knows why he is suffering. We won't have answers in this World, but just look at the incredible spiritual heights Ellisa Felder.has been able to reach.I have a friend who lost a child and stayed in bed for three years. I chose not to do that but to place one foot in front of the other because otherwise the message to my children would be that G-d doesn't know what He is doing and that is the exact opposite of the message I want to give my children
(3) Dr Billy, December 4, 2016 9:11 PM
cetain
There is one certain thing about life and that is death.
(2) Rhonda, December 4, 2016 2:50 PM
Thank you.
Thank you for sharing this part of your journey with us. You have given words to emotions too deep for words for me. My husband passed away 18 months ago unexpectedly in our home. It was a traumatic experience for our family yet Hashem provided some tender mercies in it that are so precious to me. Every day we make a decision to keep moving forward trusting Hashem and believing He believes we have something of value to contribute despite this lack of connection so prevalent in our hearts. May Hashem bless you and the loving work your hands are doing for others. You are an inspiration. Maybe that is what He intends for us through this ....to be an inspiration to his other children.
Anonymous, December 5, 2016 9:27 PM
day to day
Amen to your bracha
May Hashem comfort you and give you the strength you need to be an inspiration for others. Everything we do because of the lessons we learnt from our loved ones elevates their souls in the Heavens!
(1) ANN barneder, December 4, 2016 2:38 PM
I so understand
We lost our first granson.... my daughter's first child 14 years ago ( his yartzeit is in another 2 weeks). I thought I would never breath again. The pain was searing. Hashem helped us through those days...I would like to share what my daughter said over the open grave "Hashem I thank you for allowing me be a mother, even if for a very short time.. i know now that I was / am a good mother.."