At The Western Cemetery
Leslie Lyndon, Marion Davies and I go to visit the graves. We stop first at Rabbi and Mrs Jacobs. 'Did you know her name was actually Sophie?' Leslie and I agree that we have both always thought of her as Shula. 'She was a mother to her congregation' reads the inscription. Rabbi Jacobs specifically wanted these words to be on her stone. I miss them both hugely, miss phoning up with questions about halakhah and philosophy, miss sitting in Rabbi Jacobs' study, miss the sound of their voices.
We stop at Sandra's grave, Leslie's sister, who loved her family so much, loved animals too, especially dogs, and whose son Russell found Safi in the street all those years ago. We talk to our friends (I shan't say all the names, because it's so sad and because I might inadvertently give hurt if I leave out anybody). As we read the names and inscriptions I think of everyone's families and pray to God to send them blessing. We all cry.
I ask Leslie to sing an El Malei Rachamim for 'all our friends who have gone to their eternal rest' and he does so quietly and sweetly. We all cry. I think too of how this is the last day of Kaddish for my father. We wander slowly back together and wash our hands, saying: 'God shall swallow up death forever...'. We are all so involved with our thoughts that I had quite forgotten about the hundred mile walk. But, wherever else I may go, this is the heart of it.
Leslie Lyndon, Marion Davies and I go to visit the graves. We stop first at Rabbi and Mrs Jacobs. 'Did you know her name was actually Sophie?' Leslie and I agree that we have both always thought of her as Shula. 'She was a mother to her congregation' reads the inscription. Rabbi Jacobs specifically wanted these words to be on her stone. I miss them both hugely, miss phoning up with questions about halakhah and philosophy, miss sitting in Rabbi Jacobs' study, miss the sound of their voices.
We stop at Sandra's grave, Leslie's sister, who loved her family so much, loved animals too, especially dogs, and whose son Russell found Safi in the street all those years ago. We talk to our friends (I shan't say all the names, because it's so sad and because I might inadvertently give hurt if I leave out anybody). As we read the names and inscriptions I think of everyone's families and pray to God to send them blessing. We all cry.
I ask Leslie to sing an El Malei Rachamim for 'all our friends who have gone to their eternal rest' and he does so quietly and sweetly. We all cry. I think too of how this is the last day of Kaddish for my father. We wander slowly back together and wash our hands, saying: 'God shall swallow up death forever...'. We are all so involved with our thoughts that I had quite forgotten about the hundred mile walk. But, wherever else I may go, this is the heart of it.
[Photograph: ©2008MarionDavies]
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