It’s difficult to find the right words, sometimes.
Not always. But sometimes. I want to write but I can’t. Words won’t fly, keys won’t click- backspace after backspace, then I give up and start again. And again. And again.
Other times, time isn;t on my side. It slips away, evasive and sought after, until I’m left looking at the clock and wondering what happened? Then time returns, long and dreary and dragging on, but my keyboard isn’t within reach.
After my two-day break l’kvod yontiff, I found that both were true.
Shortly before the yontiff began, someone I loved very dearly passed away. Boruch Dayan Ho’emess. Two days of sheer agony and loneliness followed. I wanted to scream, to cry like a child- anything but to celebrate. I sat tight. I neither mourned nor celebrated. I think Hashem understood. Maybe. Hopefully. And now… The words have come back to me, but she hasn’t. My beloved is gone. And so is a part of me. I wonder if I’ll be anyone’s favourite person ever again. I wonder if life will return to normal. I guess it has to.
Or I’ll have to pretend.
This article also appeared here.