Rabbi Irwin Wiener, D.D.
Understanding the secret of death requires a look into our hearts. Perhaps this can give us a glimpse into an intense understanding of life. I know why Sandi was created: To bring comfort and joy to everyone she met, everyone she befriended, everyone who was drawn to her magnetic smile and charm. Her heart was always filled with sympathy for those who needed that effort. Her soul was pure as she continued to understand the value and purpose of life.
We know that we are born to die, but what we do with the in-between contains the total of our worth and significance. The in-between involves so much pain and healing, so much conflict and resolution, so much joy and sorrow. Sometimes we wonder about the value of life itself.
These thoughts and more were part of my experience as I witnessed a loved one melt into another world, another dimension. Losing someone we love and cherish is, to say the least, an episode in anguish and turmoil. Losing someone we love can also be inspirational, even when our grief is beyond expression.
Sandra was her name. She was a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a mother. And she was all those things and more. She accomplished this with dignity and grace. And she ended her days in this same state of elegance that was the hallmark of her sojourn here on Earth. She was the epitome of elegance.
My heart ached watching her suffer and go through endless ordeals in futile attempts to gain time. She wanted to witness the continuation of the life of her children and grandchildren. This was not to be. In fact, we certainly can say that she loved them more than life itself. It was her faith that carried her through the rough days and endless nights, but she never complained but always made sure she remained beautiful, even as the treatments took their toll.
Her children, grandchildren, and other relatives and friends all lived this nightmare with me. Some were able to cope and support, some were tortured by her suffering. I learned a great deal from this experience, not only as a husband, but also as a person of faith. I counseled many people over the years on how to cope with adversity and now, when faced with the same ordeal, found no consolation in my words.
One day I found myself reaching for a book in my library. The book I touched and began to fondle was Psalms. I opened the page to Psalm 23, as I did for so many others who looked to me for comfort and solace. This time, however, I studied each word and looked for meanings that were not apparent to me before.
I found one sentence which reads, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil.” I have mentioned this many times and, in fact, read it at every funeral or memorial service. However, it seemed that this time I really realized what the psalmist was trying to relate. He talks about walking through the valley of death, not to the valley of death. I read it over many times and appreciated that even though we suffer tragic losses in our lives, we need to understand that passing through these terrible episodes gives us the ability to continue living.
She was a noble woman; in fact, she was ennobling because of her demeanor and fortitude. She fought the valiant fight, and she lost. But she lost with dignity, and for that I came to understand an even greater feeling of connection to my Creator. I knew in an instant after reading this Psalm that sometimes we lose someone we love, someone who has an immense impact on our lives can make us stronger.
Her legacy may not be written in books, but it is embedded in how I live my life and how I treat others who look to me for understanding and compassion. Her legacy is written on a little stone in a cemetery that commemorates her existence. Her reward will be that which only God can give, the gift of life everlasting. She deserves no less.
I finally realized that God, in His infinite mercy, reached out to bring her soul to His bosom in eternal gratitude for a life well spent that contained mercy and forgiveness. Those thoughts help me, to this very day, one year later. It ensures that faith is dependent on knowing that there are things in life over which we have no control. But we have an obligation to live to the fullest and appreciate those who travel that road of life with us as well.
Yes, after one year, I still visit the cemetery at least twice a week. I fear that after I am gone, there will be no one to visit, no one to remember. However, as I have mentioned on several occasions, God will remember, and on the anniversary each year of her passing, the angels will call out her name and all in Heaven will continue to remember as well. This gives me a great deal of comfort.