Last night I was reviewing a section from my upcoming book, 40 Countries By Myself and today I received sad news sooner than I imagined. The section was an experience I had in Kathmandu watching a man on the other side of the river cremate his father. I was in Nepal (see www.lonelyplanet.com) an adventurer's travel guidebook website) during a time in my life in which some of my grandparents were still alive and my parents were healthy. I felt sad for the man and for his father but it wasn’t until I lost my uncle and my grandmother 7 years later that I revisited that grisly scene in my mind.
Today I received a call from my mother. She sounded exceptionally on edge and said, “I have bad news”. At first I thought it was my father or one of my aunts or uncle. “Slava Fintel died. We just received the news. I feel so numb.” I wasn’t sure what to say. Judaism has a 5,000 year tradition of dealing with death. I am more knowledgeable about the mourning customs than most Jews but I have practiced Buddhism for a long time. “Some believe that there is an after life. I know you do not believe it”, I began.
I told my mom of the fictional movie “Charlie St. Cloud” (www.imdb.com/title/tt1438254) that I saw recently. This is about a teenage boy who was getting ready to go to college. There was so much promise in his life at that time. Then he got into a car accident while driving and his 9 year old brother was killed. For the next 5 years Charlie lived and worked in the cemetery where his brother had been buried. He played catch with his brother every day at sunset.
After the movie was over there were 2 of us still sitting in the theatre. I asked the woman leaving the theatre with me, “What did you think?” Her voice was strong yet gentle. Her eyes were kind. Sometimes when I exit the theatre I ask people the same question and they try to get away from me. The woman replied, “When Charlie let go of his brother, his brother was able to move on to the next place.” What if this woman was right? What if our thoughts influence our departed friends’ and relatives’ After Death journey? I realized that Charlie’s intention was positive but he had held his brother back.
Charlie’s reaction also made me think of the 3 years I spent in Thailand (http://www.amazon.com/Insight-Guide-Thailand-Guides/dp/1585732990). Funerals were not somber as I had always seen in the West. Those still alive were to make merit for the departed soul. Buddhists believe in birth and rebirth. I did not share any of this to convert my mom to Buddhism. I knew she was well versed in the Jewish death customs (http://www.amazon.com/Meanings-Death-Rabbinic-Judaism/dp/0415211840/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1283751596&sr=1-1#reader_0415211840) and I wanted to offer a different view. I was saying these things to comfort myself as much as her.
About 3 minutes after I hung up the phone I realized I was folding kitchen towels. My white towels with green and purple grapes and cups of red and white wine. I didn’t know how to comfort myself so I did what I often do to find some peace, I walked to the book store. I went to the Self Improvement section and sure enough, there was one shelf about Death. I noticed A Year to Live How to Live This Year as if it Were Your Last by Stephen Levine ( http://www.personaltransformation.com/Levine.html) I had read this book about 14 years ago and since then had often asked myself What would I do and think in this moment if I knew that this was my last year? On Grief and Grieving by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler (http://www.amazon.com/Grief-Grieving-Finding-Meaning-Through/dp/0743266285) is as much a celebration of life as a comforting guide about death.
Five days ago my parents, Slava, and her husband, Mark and a few other couples got together for lunch. I had considered going but did not do so. When my mother told me the news today, it took less than a split second to realize that I had forfeitted my last opportunity to say goodbye to Slava. In addition to the understandable emotions of grief, denial and sadness, I felt so angry at myself.
Slava had been one of my parents’ closest friends. When I was growing up, Slava and Mark got together with my parents and other Chicago couples who had studied together in Germany after World War II. I remember spending every Labor Day and many other days with the Fintels and their kids. Although I did not know the details of Slava’s World War II experiences until I googled her tonight, I was aware that her story was a lot like that of my parents. I learned from the writings of Samuel Kassow, Holocaust scholar (http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3ASamuel%20D.%20Kassow&field-author=Samuel%20D.%20Kassow&page=1), that Slava had been shot and crawled 15 miles back to a hiding place.
How do we say goodbye to those in our lives who were larger than life? The possibility that Slava is now in a world which is difficult for us to visualize, a much better place, gives me a lot of comfort. I will do my best to make merit.
Today I received a call from my mother. She sounded exceptionally on edge and said, “I have bad news”. At first I thought it was my father or one of my aunts or uncle. “Slava Fintel died. We just received the news. I feel so numb.” I wasn’t sure what to say. Judaism has a 5,000 year tradition of dealing with death. I am more knowledgeable about the mourning customs than most Jews but I have practiced Buddhism for a long time. “Some believe that there is an after life. I know you do not believe it”, I began.
I told my mom of the fictional movie “Charlie St. Cloud” (www.imdb.com/title/tt1438254) that I saw recently. This is about a teenage boy who was getting ready to go to college. There was so much promise in his life at that time. Then he got into a car accident while driving and his 9 year old brother was killed. For the next 5 years Charlie lived and worked in the cemetery where his brother had been buried. He played catch with his brother every day at sunset.
After the movie was over there were 2 of us still sitting in the theatre. I asked the woman leaving the theatre with me, “What did you think?” Her voice was strong yet gentle. Her eyes were kind. Sometimes when I exit the theatre I ask people the same question and they try to get away from me. The woman replied, “When Charlie let go of his brother, his brother was able to move on to the next place.” What if this woman was right? What if our thoughts influence our departed friends’ and relatives’ After Death journey? I realized that Charlie’s intention was positive but he had held his brother back.
Charlie’s reaction also made me think of the 3 years I spent in Thailand (http://www.amazon.com/Insight-Guide-Thailand-Guides/dp/1585732990). Funerals were not somber as I had always seen in the West. Those still alive were to make merit for the departed soul. Buddhists believe in birth and rebirth. I did not share any of this to convert my mom to Buddhism. I knew she was well versed in the Jewish death customs (http://www.amazon.com/Meanings-Death-Rabbinic-Judaism/dp/0415211840/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1283751596&sr=1-1#reader_0415211840) and I wanted to offer a different view. I was saying these things to comfort myself as much as her.
About 3 minutes after I hung up the phone I realized I was folding kitchen towels. My white towels with green and purple grapes and cups of red and white wine. I didn’t know how to comfort myself so I did what I often do to find some peace, I walked to the book store. I went to the Self Improvement section and sure enough, there was one shelf about Death. I noticed A Year to Live How to Live This Year as if it Were Your Last by Stephen Levine ( http://www.personaltransformation.com/Levine.html) I had read this book about 14 years ago and since then had often asked myself What would I do and think in this moment if I knew that this was my last year? On Grief and Grieving by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler (http://www.amazon.com/Grief-Grieving-Finding-Meaning-Through/dp/0743266285) is as much a celebration of life as a comforting guide about death.
Five days ago my parents, Slava, and her husband, Mark and a few other couples got together for lunch. I had considered going but did not do so. When my mother told me the news today, it took less than a split second to realize that I had forfeitted my last opportunity to say goodbye to Slava. In addition to the understandable emotions of grief, denial and sadness, I felt so angry at myself.
Slava had been one of my parents’ closest friends. When I was growing up, Slava and Mark got together with my parents and other Chicago couples who had studied together in Germany after World War II. I remember spending every Labor Day and many other days with the Fintels and their kids. Although I did not know the details of Slava’s World War II experiences until I googled her tonight, I was aware that her story was a lot like that of my parents. I learned from the writings of Samuel Kassow, Holocaust scholar (http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&rh=n%3A283155%2Cp_27%3ASamuel%20D.%20Kassow&field-author=Samuel%20D.%20Kassow&page=1), that Slava had been shot and crawled 15 miles back to a hiding place.
How do we say goodbye to those in our lives who were larger than life? The possibility that Slava is now in a world which is difficult for us to visualize, a much better place, gives me a lot of comfort. I will do my best to make merit.
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