Here, too, it was each woman to her own grief. I didn’t know where to place myself
She’s also as unpretentious as they come. If I’d share these thoughts with her, she’d probably swat my shoulder and offer me kugel.
The gift of this aunt is in her presence alone. There’s not a judgmental bone in her body; she just delights in whomever she sees as if they’ve painted her day even brighter than her own sunny outlook. But in the tangible realm, her greatest gift to me was a hug.
When my father-in-law was diagnosed, we were all in shock. He was youthful and vibrant… our family was too young for this! I was married all of six years with a trio of tiny kids; my biggest headache should have been Purim costumes. Yet here I was, carrying on with my winter as if. I couldn’t tell my family yet because my in-laws were keeping things under wraps. My husband, stalwart that he is, refused to be cowed by fear. So that left me trying to hold my feelings of impending doom and wrenching loss; a clumsy container that fit no shelf.
My brother-in-law fought to reach new levels of faith. My sister-in-law created a song of tefillah that she sang to herself. And I cried as I wrote a poem in my diary and felt a bit like an imposter.
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