I remember Rozy

Mom with cake Today, April 30, 2017, is my mother, Rosalind Krivit’s yahrzeit. She passed away in 2010. I am still getting used to her not being here and not being able to share my life with her.

Death is hard for those that are left behind. I’m sad and I miss her so much that my heart aches. There are tears behind my big blue eyes. It feels as if they are running down my insides. I am managing these overwhelming feelings by having an inner dialogue with my inner self. It’s important to create space to hear that part of me that misses her mommy. I long to go over to her apartment and cook together, play cards or go down to the lower east side of Manhattan to Economy Candy, so Rosalind can stock up on hard sucking candies. She would purchase 6 months worth of candy at a time. There are a 101 things I long to do with my mother. The more I allow myself to feel my feelings I can cope with the loss. It’s when I deny my truth that I feel depressed. At the same time I need to remember the gifts she gave both me and my brother, Ira. There were so many.

There is one story I want to share with you. It’s about her open heart open house philosophy. In February, 1953, my mother was having a couple over to her apartment for a Saturday night dinner. Her friend ( I wish I remembered her name – oh well), called a few hours before she was to arrive with her boyfriend and asked if she could bring a friend to dinner, his name was Bill Krivit. My mother, like her mother Ida Sribnick said “of course there’s always room for 1 more at the table.”

The 4 of them ate, drank and laughed the night away. When Bill left with the other couple he exclaimed, “I’m going to marry that girl.” They were married on June 23, 1953, 5 months after they met.

My parents always loved to be with family and friends. The more the merrier. People stopped by the house all the time. Family would come for a visit and it turned into weekend guests. It didn’t matter if they lived several towns away or several states away. We always had sleep overs. Ira had a trundle bed and the children would sleep head to toe. It was a fun happy home to grow up in.

The family is much smaller and there aren’t as many simhkes (parties) as there used to be. It’s ok. I have to accept life on life’s terms. Tonight I’ll honor my mother by being happy and spending time with my brother & husband, Joel.

“Healing comes from letting there be room for all of “this” to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”

~ Pema Chodron