MEINE YAHRZEIT, IHRE YAHRZEIT
Heute ist meine Yahrzeit.
That’s what we Yids say on the anniversary of someone’s death.
Heute ist meine Yahrzeit. Today is that day: that day of the year.
Today is the day when it happened.
Today is the day she died.
Heute ist meine Yahrzeit.
Felicia Campbell died one year ago today.
Today is the day set aside to observe her death.
Today is not just another day on the calendar.
Today is my day. My special day of mourning.
Heute ist meine Yahrzeit.
Today is devoted entirely to mourning her death.
Today is not a holiday, or a day off from school.
Today is not Yom Kippur, or some public event.
Today is about remembering someone I love.
Heute ist meine Yahrzeit.
Don’t expect me to go to work. Not today.
Don’t ask me to meet you for lunch, either.
Don’t ask me any questions, period.
Just this once, let me wail in peace.
I might go to shul, or I might not.
That is none of your business.
Neither is anything else, frankly.
That is, unless it’s your Yahrzeit.
Then we understand each other.
Since the day belongs to us both,
let us mourn her spirit together.
This is neither prayer nor ritual.
It is the muted voice of sorrow.
Heute ist unsere Yahrzeit.
Felicia died a year ago today.
Yet her presence is still felt.
Always, and in all possible ways.
For even in death, she is ageless.
Felicia ist immer an meiner Seite.
Forever by your side, too, Bubbie . . .
That goes for everyone she knew:
every soul whose life she touched.
Yahrzeit nach Yahrzeit,
bis in die Ewigkeit . . .
So until next year in Las Vegas . . .
reserve a place for us at dinner.