We Jews observe a commemoration, or unveiling, of the headstone of a deceased loved one sometime after Shiva (the formal seven-day mourning period following the burial) and before the one-year anniversary of the death. My children and I went to Kentucky recently for the unveiling of Eddie’s headstone.
Is it possible to hold both joy and sorrow in the same palm? Suleika Jaouad was the first to put it that way (for me), and she firmly believes it’s not only possible, but sees it as a necessary and ongoing practice. Her attitude truly helped Eddie and me as we navigated his illness. If you’re not familiar with Suleika, I highly recommend you pick up one of her books: “Between Two Kingdoms” or her latest, “The Book of Alchemy” or watch the documentary “American Symphony,” which is about her and her husband, Jon Batiste.
The day of the unveiling was crisp and clear, not unlike the day of Eddie’s funeral a year earlier. The leaves were colorful and crunchy underfoot. I had ordered the headstone and marker several months prior, and they were in place when we walked up to the sight where he is buried. I must admit that seeing a photo of the stone on my computer and seeing it at the cemetery, wedged in among so many others, were two completely different things. When I first saw it beneath a white cloth tied up neatly with a bow, almost ghost-like, I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I burst into tears. Like the sound of the dirt being shoveled onto the coffin at the end of his funeral, this made it all seem very too real.
The three of us sat underneath the willow tree that is across from the burial site. We reminisced about Eddie, telling stories, laughing and crying. We sat quietly. We read some prayers together. After a while, we walked over to the covered headstone and stood in front of it. I asked the kids to unwrap it. Before we left, we placed pebbles on it. (According to Maurice Lamm, who wrote “The Jewish Way in Death and Mourning,” this tradition serves as a reminder of the family’s presence. It also reminds us that, during Biblical times, the monument was a pile of stones. Often, the elements or vandals dispersed them, so visitors placed additional stones to assure the grave was marked.)
The joy that day was being with my children, hearing them talk lovingly about their father, seeing that they had come through the year in one piece, knowing they miss him so much and are grateful that he was their dad, and knowing he will forever live on in them and in their children. The joy that day was that Eddie was there in spirit.
The sorrow, of course, was that Eddie was there in spirit.
