The Kaddish prayer: what it does and does not do

The Kaddish prayer is a puzzlement for me. I say it because of tradition, nothing more.  It could be interpreted as a prayer praising G-d despite the loss of a loved one. But the recitation provides no relief, no words of comfort, no connection to the actual reason most people give voice to it.

When my beloved Warren died, I said the Kaddish prayer every day for eleven months. I said it by rote, from memory without thinking about the meaning. But each time, when I finished reciting it, as I stood in front of a favorite photo of him, I took the time to reflect on various memories that came flooding into my mind and my heart, smiling amidst the tears and whispering softly to him that our life together was one of wonder, beauty, laughter and so much love. Those precious few minutes of reciting the prayer and remembering helped me to start my day and enabled me to leave my bedroom without collapsing in utter grief.

I am not a Rabbinic scholar. I can read Hebrew but I can't speak it in conversation nor do I understand much of it. So reciting the Kaddish is an exercise in how good my memory is.  But when I participate in the recitation of it while in synagogue, it takes on a whole different meaning for me. I am not the only one who stands for it. I'm surrounded by many who repeat the prayer with me. The key words here are "with me." I am in a community of wonderful people who have experienced deep loss and together we acknowledge our pain, together we remember our loved ones and we recognize each other's loss.

Perhaps that community of mourners standing together all thinking of their loved ones creates a common bond, if only for a few moments. I want to think that such a bond may be the real reason many recite the Kaddish. And when I recited the familiar words, the words I really don't understand, alone, on all those days, it gave me time to prepare to face the day.  So, voicing the words, alone or included in a community of mourners, it affords me some precious time of concentrating completely on my Beloved and those other loved family members and knowing that I am not really alone.

Copyright © 2019 Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved.

The end of Kaddish

I have been saying Kaddish (the Mourner's Prayer) every morning for my Beloved since he passed away. We have an extraordinarily wonderful friend in Connecticut who has been saying Kaddish for him, two times a day, for the same amount of time. It was his way of honoring his dear, dear friend.  This week, during our conversation, he told me that today, Saturday, May 12th, would be the official Hebrew calendar date that the tradition of saying Kaddish for him would come to an end.

So, as I had done every morning for so many months, I stood in front of the many photos I have of him adorning my dresser, lifted the written prayer (which I had committed to memory years ago) and slowly recited the familiar prayer through copious tears. At its conclusion, I felt bereft, uncertain, sad and a little lost.

I spoke to him then, explaining about the ending of the recitation and reminding him (and me) that this was not an ending but now I would spend those precious few minutes each morning starting my day with a specific happy memory in place of the Kaddish.  And at that, I could see him smile.

My life with Warren was such a wonderful gift. What better way than to begin each day now with a smile, a giggle, or an outright laugh at one of the thousands of happy memories I have to draw from.

Copyright © 2018, Reisa Sterling Miller. All Rights Reserved