When the Clouds Form
Passover, Yizkor - April, 1999

I am certain all of you have had this happen. You are enjoying a bright sunny, spring or summer day and suddenly clouds roll in. The gleaming expanse of blue sky becomes dark and foreboding. And then the rains fall. Mourning the loss of a dear one is a similar experience. We are going about our work or relaxing or having dinner and abruptly there is an alteration in our mental process. Like the sudden appearance of storm clouds, sadness unsuspectingly streams into our thinking. When the wounds of grief are fresh, the sudden change has the effect of a psychic thunder clap - startling us and shaking us up. Tears flow like rain. Grief overwhelms our emotional floodgates. And then it is over. As suddenly as it intruded into our thoughts, the grief gives way and normalcy returns - until the next time our grief sneaks up on us. As time slowly heals our hurt, the skies stay clear for longer periods.

Yet, mourning knows no time limits. It can descend upon us out of the blue -- triggered by a word spoken in a conversation or by smells, or by foods, sights and sounds. Old friends, random thoughts or reminiscences can bring it on. And when it comes, there is no hiding. It envelops us. But now, with the passage of time, the memories of our beloved dead no longer startle. They impose themselves on us but they don't shake us to our core as they once did.

We may even arrive at a stage of acceptance where once heartbreaking remembrances are now welcomed. It is like being caught in a spring or summer cloudburst. You feel strangely refreshed by the drops falling on your face? A similar thing can happen when thoughts of loved ones no longer at our side bathe us in a pleasing nostalgia. Memories of what was sweet and charming about them comfort us. We remember festive gatherings and milestones spent in their presence. We feel strengthened and heartened by all the wonderful times and special moments we enjoyed with them. At these moments we think more of them as they were in life than we do about their deaths. The love and affection we once had becomes more important than what we have lost.

Yizkor is a time for being awash in memories. Thoughts of parents, grandparents, a spouse, a child, uncles and aunts and friends begin to drift in. We are warmed by the recollections of the myriad of events and experiences that linked our lives with theirs. We recognize the blessing they brought us. Our sadness at their passing is eased by the felt joy of having shared so much of life with them. This is why many of us are here this morning. It is not to angrily point a finger at God as we may have done in the early stages of our sadness. No. It is to spend a few minutes in reminiscences and memory; to say prayers in God 's presence that immortalize our dear ones in our hearts. At Yizkor time, we bask in the glow of loving thoughts about people whose deaths have neither diminished our love for them nor our longing.