Chanukah

For the first time since 2018, I rekindled the menorah. Some days I lit the candles early, sometimes late, mostly in solitude, and once with a friend. Regardless of the circumstances, I lit the candles and recited the blessings every night. After Ariella’s passing, I found myself estranged from religion. Anger towards G-d, uncertainty about my beliefs, and a disinterest in celebrating anything became the new normal. Joy evaporated, replaced by overwhelming guilt, bitterness, and heartache. How could I celebrate a miracle when we did not get the one and only miracle we fervently begged and prayed for? Miracles were not something I thought I believed in until a miracle was the only sliver of hope left to desperately cling to. Until Ariella’s final breath, I begged and bargained for the miracle we yearned for but did not get.

This year has brought about a myriad of changes, and amidst the uncertainty, something within me has shifted. My perspective on life, on living, has undergone the most profound transformation. Sadness continues to wash over me with frequency, but alongside the sadness exists a glimmer of light attempting to break through, pushing its way into the forefront. While I’ve continued to largely ignore the observance of many holidays, Chanukah, specifically the ritual of lighting the candles, carried a distinct significance for me this year. The idea of a single flame capable of igniting many others without diminishing its own radiance struck a chord with me. Chanukah candles symbolize hope during dark times and illuminate the path towards resilience. While I refrained from engaging in other traditional rituals, simply lighting the candles felt like a powerful first step towards something more meaningful.

The shift in my perspective doesn’t erase the grief that will always be present, but it does introduce a subtle change; a softening of the edges and growing resilience. The weight of sorrow may persist, yet I recognize that healing is possible. I’ve come to understand that healing doesn’t mean the absence of pain, it’s learning to coexist with it. It’s the realization that sadness doesn’t equal suffering and the acknowledgment that both happiness and grief can occupy the same space in my life. I’ve granted myself permission to feel peace and contentment without guilt. And I continue to allow myself to embrace the sadness, knowing those dark moments won’t last.