Released

I knew my husband’s neshamah was waiting for chalitzah

“You can sit down and wait in there,” he said. His tone was gentle. “We’ll let you know when we are ready to do the chalitzah.”

I’d gotten good at waiting. I’d been doing that for a long time now.

I’d been sitting in an art class, engrossed in the scenery I was drawing, when the phone call came. I sighed. This class was an oasis for me, a place where I could try to forget about the loss of my second husband, who’d succumbed to Covid, and the loneliness I’d been living with ever since.

I tried to ignore the call, but when I looked at the screen, I realized the call was from Israel, and I knew I had to take it.