Mama Deb (mamadeb) wrote,
Mama Deb


It was a lovely day, one for which we'd originally had no plans beyond replacing our harddrive. However, on Saturday evening, we found out that the mother of a friend of ours had died, and that the funeral would be Monday.

It was a short enough bus ride, but we knew it would be large so we got there early. And we were right. The lady had colleagues and friends and family, and was active in her Conservative synagogue (much like her daughter in our old Orthodox synagogue) and was much beloved by all of them. We'd only met her once or twice ourselves, so we came for her daughter.

We heard the story of a dedicated and talented psychiatric social worker, an old-fashioned liberal who worked for what she believed, who raised three brilliant and lovely daughters, who eventually gave her seven grandchildren in the space of four years. She also spent her last twenty years managing her husband's law office - "A full partner in everything."

Her daughters - one a lawyer who works with her father, one a newspaper writer and I don't know the third - spoke eloquently and tearfully about her and her sense of humor and her relationships with them, their husbands and their children. Her much older sister came from Boston, and spoke.

To my surprise, there were relatively few people from her daughter's synagogue - seven or eight people plus the rabbi.

And, with my talent for irrelevencies, I couldn't help cataloging the differences between my friend and her sisters. The other two were dramatic - long, impassioned speeches entirely from their hearts, dark hair and black clothes. My friend has fairer hair she wore mostly covered by a bright kerchief, and she wore an old, light colored outfit. Her speech was more awkward and shorter, if equally tearful and from the heart.

Also. Minor digression. Part of a Jewish funeral is the rending of garments - on the left if a parent died, on the right for spouse, child or sibling. Some groups tear down to skin (with women taking measures to preserve modesty) while others tear a single garment - a jacket, a shirt, a sweater. This garment would be worn throughout the shiva - the initial seven days morning period. For my father, I wore an old pink sweater over a t-shirt. It didn't look wonderful at the funeral, but I didn't actually care at the time.

For various reasons, it's common for funeral homes to affix ribbons to the correct side and tear *those* instead of actual garments. My friend tore her jacket, and her sisters tore ribbons. *shrug* It was irrelevent but it's what I notice.

We did need to replace the hard drive, so yesterday evening, my brother-in-law stopped by to help. They had it done - old hard drive removed, new one installed, about to close up and put it all together instead - when my PDA decided to crash. Everything I'd added was *gone*. There was only one thing they could do - reinstall the old hard-drive and hook it all back up again so I could sync it. All that work wasted.

I also lost about a thousand words in the story I'm writing on the PDA, but that's less of a thing. That's happened to me before, and I've always ended up with a better story.
Tags: computers, funerals, pda

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