Today is the 19th of Nisan

Tomorrow will be the 20th of Nisan. To many people, that won’t mean anything, and I expect that in many years, it will mean little to me. But this year, it means everything. This year, the 20th of Nisan signifies the 11 month monthiversary of the passing of my dad. In Jewish thought, this is significant. I will, on that 20th, stop saying the kaddish – a prayer recited by the mourner during his time of mourning. For a parent or other first level relative, one says it for 11 months. The truly evil get is said for a year but, as we don’t see our loved ones as evil, we stop after 11 months. What worries me is that whatever theologically explained benefit this prayer has for the soul of my father, will cease when I stop saying it. More than that, the daily reminder of my father – that crutch which gave my liturgical process meaning for 11 months will also stop. And I, a drabbi, can do nothing but unpack my heart with words.

“Drabbi.” I write that knowing that the pun will be missed by many, while others will think it highly inappropriate Either, or. It represents my personal affinity for Hamlet and my clerical status mixed with my personal lack of filter when it comes to humor. I write like that because I know that every once in a while, when I make, or at least when I made, some ridiculous bit of wordplay, I managed to make my father smile or, even better, think and look something up. His bar was not low. He was the smartest and wisest man I ever met and to make him laugh or confuse him gave me purpose. I don’t try to make my mom laugh – I try to annoy her and make her feel like she wants to throttle me. Different strokes, you know. But anyway, I write the stream of my thoughts because I like to think that even now, my dad is avoiding reading something I wrote until he really has to. That gives me comfort.

So I’d like to aim a word or two to my dad, Richard Rosen, Yitzchak Aharon Ben Eliyahu Chayim a"h.

Dad. Eleven months and I miss you terribly and daily. I recall you often and invoke your memory more than I thought I would. On the calendar of kabbalistic levels for the days of the omer (the 49 days between the second day of Passover and the Feast of Weeks) , the 20th of Nisan is symbolized by Hod She’b’chesed – glory that is in kindness. I can think of nothing that more symbolizes you. You wore a crown of glory through your accomplishments and personal characteristics, but you reveled in doing acts of chesed, of loving kindness for your fellow man. You were never about self-aggrandizement and in that, I’d like to think you served as a role model for us all.

I will continue to remember you daily through both my prayers and my actions. Eleven months will turn into 12 and the ending of formal mourning. To thirteen and the anniversary of your death and then I will start counting by years and not months, the way we do for an infant who becomes a toddler. The tears will pass like calendar pages as the years become milestones and memories become lore. I hope that my actions and prayers for these 11 months have elevated you and made you proud, and served as an example of the impact that you continue to have in this world. May your neshama have an Aliyah in the z’chut of any mitzvah I do.