Passover hasn't been the same for my family in years. A decade - to be exact.
This year is even more difficult. I don't host a Seder. I don't attend one. But still, I miss the ones we grew up with. The ones where my father sat at the head of the table and he and my mother maneuvered around the kitchen throughout the night - serving and plating - and welcoming.
Over the years so very many of our friends and loved ones attended Seder at my parents' home. Having a dad who could make most anything from scratch meant we never went elsewhere. A dad who cooked so well that other people bought his food for their holidays (it wasn't his store but we know who did the work!).
And though my dad did most of the cooking (minus the pot roast or chicken - cutlets or barbecue), my mom did everything else. And I do mean everything.
Not having her here to reminisce with hurts something awful this year. To laugh and cry with. To send pics of matzo balls and ask if they looked even close to my dad's.
My heart hurts and my memories help me grieve and heal, and I watch as another holiday comes and goes.
Happy Passover to those who celebrate.
May yours be blessed, may our hostages be returned home safely, and may we each witness the strength of the Jewish people as the days go on.
Zeissen Pesach.
Sending you so much love.
ReplyDeleteBring them home.
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