It was never spoken about, an otherworldly secret between club members, the club you didn’t want to join
Only a few women remain, probably the ones who must be here.
The men are still going strong; chassan Torah, chassan Bereishis, the spirited dancing of a short time ago replaced by a sense of camaraderie, unified in love for the holy words. The passion is palpable, the walls almost quivering with sanctity and devotion.
I don’t remember ever being in shul for the Bereishis leining. I stand with the rest, recite the words of the Days of Creation along with the chorale of exultant daveners. I get up and sit down. The euphoria hovers like a warm wind, sublime, profound, real.
Yet I only feel unease. I notice three other young mothers still here, wonder if they’re staying, like me, or about to leave. As Kaddish winds to a close, a voice from over the mechitzah announces “Yizkor!” and they all depart.
Yizkor used to be a time when my mother, in her pure white suit, stayed inside the room, while I was ushered to the other side of the heavy glass doors, where I munched on snacks and played with my friends. Who knew what went on in there, in that closeted society of orphans? I had no idea.
