Eulogy

Last week was exhausting. By Friday I actually exploded in the office when I discovered a meeting had been planned without my knowledge. An extremely insightful friend of mine approached me to give me a hug at which point I totally melted down. The truth is, I don't think I gave myself enough emotional space to process my adjustment back to work after Pesach with family. Too many days this week I've caught myself remembering beautiful natural places in Oregon and B.C. and feeling incredible loss.

It doesn't help that I had two intentionally emotional evenings. Sunday night, in honor of Yom Hashoah, I heard a survivor from Sobibor. As part of the program they showed clips from the movie Escape From Sobibor, a movie I saw years ago. I went home feeling haunted and shaky almost more from memories of the movie and clips I didn't see than from what I actually saw and heard that night. Oddly enough, ND woke up right when I came home and was not just awake, but frightened too, easily spooked. I wondered if she sensed what I was feeling.

Then Monday night we had a memorial siyum at my school for  an administrative assistant at our school that died from cancer this year. The memorial was an opportunity for us to have some sort of closure and unity, but also to show her family just how much we cared about Sarah. She was so committed to her work and I was glad we could show how much we valued her, that her hard work was truly appreciated.

I spoke. I wasn't really planning to, but the opportunity presented itself. Several people read things they'd written including their memories of her. I kept mine to a theme and I'd like to record it here even it somewhat abridged. I think my words hit home based on something one of her sons said afterwards, and I'd like to record it here.

One of the things we loved about Sarah was this drawer she had in her desk filled with chocolate that was available for all. By the time I spoke, this drawer had been mentioned many times, so what I said was...

When I'm stressed I have an unfortunate habit of eating, and teaching is a stressful job. When I found out about the drawer, I kept my distance for awhile, but finally discovered Sarah really meant in when she invited us to partake. I think I took more than my share, sometimes 3 or 4 in a day. A few times I bought bags of chocolate to replace it, but it didn't seem necessary. The drawer was always full.

Then after some time the drawer was not so full. After Sarah's funeral I decided I would pay her tribute by buying as much as I could. I bought 5 enormous bags of York Mints and thought how terrific I was to have bought it.

To my surprise, it was all gone within a few days time. I had no idea how much she was putting into that drawer. It was at that point I realized just how much I had received. It was embarrassing. It made me want to become a better, more generous person.