Abba passed away last night. He never really liked poetry, and so I never really shared mine with him. But for the last year he has kept a special poem by his side that, to him, was a comfort in his last days. Here is my version (with credits to the original, from the “Gates of Repentance” High Holiday prayerbook). I love you, Abba…
The Pilgrim
Birth is a beginning
your gift to us
and death a destination
as I child, I knew we would all live forever.
And life is a journey
and you have been our guide.
From childhood to maturity
And youth to age
I remember being a child in awe of you,
then growing up and finding my voice.
From innocence to awareness
And ignorance to knowing
I became a real person, I could even,
with reservation, disagree.
From foolishness to discretion
and then, perhaps, to wisdom.
Perhaps, though wisdom is elusive as
a moment with G-d; yet for you
both seemed as natural as breathing.
From weakness to strength
stories of you, a dying infant,
saved by mother’s milk:
frail, but somehow so strong.
to me your life itself was a miracle.
Or strength to weakness—
And often, back again;
though even in your weakest hours
your strength never faltered.
From health to sickness
you outlived several doctors, we would laugh.
And back, we pray
and back we prayed
to health again;
From offense to forgiveness
you taught us it is
never too late to take someone
back into your heart
From loneliness to love—
an empty space was carved
when Bubbie left,
and a new space filled with
new lives to nurture and love—
and you did.
From joy to gratitude
for a life fully lived.
From pain to compassion
And grief to understanding
-for this, oh Lord, we pray.
From fear to faith,
the promise of life eternal
is sealed in your children’s
eyes and minds.
From defeat to defeat to defeat
Until, looking backward or ahead
to the lessons taught
and the lives touched
that will, in turn, touch others,
a silken thread stretching into
eternity.
We see that victory lies
Not at some high place along the way
though you have looked down
from the heights
But in having made the journey
a life of significance
Stage by stage
A sacred pilgrimage
and you, the bravest of pilgrims.
Birth is a beginning
Four days ago I brought my daughter
to your bed, smiling and cooing.
“She is the future,” you smiled,
and I smiled, and we knew.
And death a destination
though we could never be ready,
we pray for your peaceful passage.
And life is a journey
and we will continue ours
with you upon our hearts.
A sacred pilgrimage
a holy pilgrim
is gone,
to life everlasting…