We had a wonderful Sabbath. On Friday evening we had a great meal with Dina and family prepared by a friend in the community who sent far more than they could eat. We just supplemented with some pasta for the vegetarians in the group. Another friend brought over a beautifully plated and delicious chocolate cake.
Have you ever seen the web page mealbaby.com, “meal registry made easy”? I believe this is one of many such web pages on which friends and family can sign up to prepare meals for someone who is ill or who has just given birth. The idea of traditional Jewish communities organizing such efforts on their own (including meals for families sitting shiva following the death of a loved one) is not new to me. In fact, there was a period when I was the coordinator of this activity in our Riverdale synagogue and a frequent preparer of meals. But back then there was no e-mail, no web pages, just phone calls and scribbled lists. I only recently learned that this custom of providing meals for various families at both happy and sad times goes well beyond the Jewish community. At a time when we so often bemoan the loss of community and of willingness to donate time, it is just heartwarming that this practice is very much alive and well in many places.
Our daughters are both terrific cooks and generous spirits, and often prepare meals for their friends during these major life events, so it is no surprise that there are more than 3 weeks of meals lined up and additional people are asking Dina to extend the time so they can sign up! If you add in the week of Passover meals that our family is providing (through some catering and some cooking to be done by Simmie /Ronen and Barry/me), well, let’s just say that Dina will be quite spoiled by the time little Julia is four or five weeks old.
Back to Sabbath, I had prepared lunch for the ten of us (technically 11 but Julia passed on my lunch for her much favored Mommy meal), doing a bit of cooking each day while Barry was back in New York. We had a wonderful afternoon, and on Saturday night we packed up all the leftovers and took them to our daughters so that we could spend Sunday preparing our apartment for Passover.
This preparation is a bittersweet experience for me. I have memories of two particularly difficult years, the year of Simmie’s birth and the year of my diagnosis, both of which started just before Passover and left me in the hospital for the entire holiday. So I am always very happy to be at home. At the same time, I am not as young or energetic or high functioning as I used to be, so taking on all of this feels like more of an effort than it should. That is why we decided to make extensive use of a caterer this year, since Dina is busy with the baby and Simmie and her family are going to her in-laws for the first days of the holiday.
It was perhaps fatigue that caused something that happened yesterday. As I have written previously, I lost about 25% of my weight during the period of diagnosis and treatment. My wedding ring, a simple gold band, has been very loose for well over a year, and I thought occasionally about having it resized but never did anything about it. Early in the day yesterday it actually fell off my finger and onto the floor while I was doing something. I should have just put the ring away, but I didn’t: I slipped it back on my finger. And all I know is that at some point late in the afternoon I realized it was gone. We looked all over the apartment, although I had not left the kitchen, and it was nowhere to be found. My guess is that at some point it fell into the trash can that was subsequently put it in the building’s trash collection room. That is about as gone as you can get.
This morning on our way back to New York we stopped at a mall to take a look at rings and find out my ring size. When we got home, we did a little web surfing and ordered a ring (for substantially less than the stores wanted). We even paid the extra to have it delivered by tomorrow.
I have all too often of late been feeling sorry for myself, frustrated by my continued cognitive struggles and the limitations resulting from my pulmonary disease. There is no question that both of these are keeping me from doing many things I would like to be able to do. No one feels the brunt of that frustration more than Barry. But no one else could possibly remain more calm and loving through all of it. These hours without that ring have been a stark reminder of just how lucky I am to be sharing my life with him.
While we had a wonderful time with all the children, I am looking forward to a few quiet days here in New York before we return to Sharon this weekend, where we will be through the end of Passover.
Have a great week!
Love,
Rebecca
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