Stones

In Jewish tradition, instead of leaving flowers on a grave site, you leave stones. The origins of this are unclear but there are several schools of thought about it. One thought is that Jewish priests become impure if they get too close to a corpse so stones are left to warn the priest to stay back. Another thought is superstition. It is believed that the Jewish soul dwells for a while in the grave and stones are piled upon it to keep the soul down in this world, which may serve as a comfort. The stones also prevent demons from getting into the graves. The reason I always knew was that flowers, though beautiful, die. A stone does not die and signifies the permanence of memory and legacy.

This tradition is so fitting for Ariella. For whatever reason, she loved stones and rocks. And they didn’t have to be pretty or smooth or shiny rocks. They didn’t have to be a particular shape or color or anything special. She did not discriminate. Any rock was worth keeping. And she did. She carried them in the pockets of her sweatpants or hoodies, among many, many other objects. Often not cleaning them off first so she would also be carrying piles of dirt. She actually even slept with them in her hand sometimes. Why sleep with a nice, cuddly, stuffed animal when you could curl up with a rock? She would find large rocks outside, huge ones, even pieces of asphalt or just hunks of dirty, ugly, rocks and want to keep them. We compromised. She was allowed to keep those outside. They are still outside our door. These are the things I miss so much about her. Her quirks, her weirdness, her ability to take pleasure in such simple things as rocks and stones. These are also the memories I worry about forgetting. The little things, the ones that didn’t seem so important but were actually everything, because that was who she was, what made her, her. These little things, little memories, characteristics that made her the special, unique person she was. How do we live without that? She filled our lives, made them whole, made life interesting and silly and fun. Life is dull without Ariella in it. I don’t get to empty pockets filled with all sorts of random items, including rocks. I don’t get to witness her pranks or have her repeatedly try to scare me (which she did quite often, making me scream). I don’t get to see her silly faces anymore or hear her contagious laugh, or just be silly together. Life is drab, empty, meaningless, without Ariella in it. She was so vibrant, exuberant, outgoing, and full of life that her absence is always noticed. She was larger than life and nothing can replace that personality, that energy, that spirit.

When I go to the cemetery I always make sure to find the perfect stone to place on her grave. Sometimes I find one that looks like a heart, or is a pretty color or perfectly smooth. Other times I find the biggest one, that one that doesn’t have anything special about it, because she would have liked that one just as much. I always make a ritual of it. But with all that said about the stones I do love when I see fresh flowers on her grave. It comforts me to know that I’m not the only one thinking about her, visiting her, remembering her. I just hope that in 1 year, 3 years, 10 years she is getting as many flowers and as many visitors as she is now. Other than living without her, nothing else scares me as much as the fear of people forgetting her. She must be remembered, always. Her legacy must live on, always. Without that, there is no way I will survive this life without her. So don’t stop talking about her, to me, to others. Share her story, say her name. Always. Don’t let her be forgotten. Even years from now. She existed. Don’t erase her existence by not talking about her or remembering her. She did not deserve to die but she does deserve to always be remembered.

Baseball

Baseball games are fraught with memories. From a young child some of my favorite memories are of going to baseball games with my father, including when the Orioles won the world series in 1983. David and I carried on that tradition with Ariella, bringing her to games from a very young age. None of us are huge baseball fans but we always enjoyed the atmosphere of the games. We like the food, the energy, the music between innings, and the overall excitement. So with the memories of the games with my dad, the memories of the games with Ariella, and the memories of the games with my dad and Ariella together, I knew I was taking a risk going to an Orioles game. I also knew that I didn’t want to lay on the couch and stare blankly at the TV while David went to the game. So I told myself it would be okay, we would be among good company, and if nothing else it would get me out of the house.

And it was okay. The company and food were good. Better, the company and food were excellent. Yes there were tons of memories at the stadium but they didn’t take over. That’s the thing, I never know what I will be able to tolerate and what will sucker punch me in the gut until I’m in the situation. But even though the memories weren’t in the forefront, I just couldn’t find myself caring at all about the game or really enjoying myself. To be fair, the attendance was paltry so the energy overall really wasn’t there. In fact David and I were hoping to see the other team pull off a no hitter since the Orioles were playing so dismally. But really, I was just going through the motions. When previously I would dance between innings, get into the music and get into the atmosphere, now I just felt blah. I had no interest in any of it. And Ariella should have been there. I was missing trying to embarrass Ariella with my dancing, missing trying to get her to dance, missing her trying to get on the screen (which she did a couple of times), missing her waving her signs she always made, missing her booing the other team at the top of her lungs. Whereas before I could go to games without her and enjoy myself, now I know what is missing. This is how my life is right now. Just going through the motions. I can’t even fake it. Faking it takes too much energy. It’s too exhausting. And frankly, I don’t want to fake it. I know it may make others feel uncomfortable or awkward but I just can’t care about that. I don’t take pleasure in things I used to find enjoyable. Everything is dull, muted. Things that used to make me smile, just don’t. The pleasure I felt at the golf tournament seems so removed from how I feel overall that it’s hard to believe it even happened. This isn’t living. This is just existing.

Most parents I have communicated with that are further along this journey than we are have said they did start living again. It took a long time, years, but they began experiencing joy along with the sadness. I just can’t imagine that that day will ever come. I don’t know that I want it to come. How can I be joyful in a world where I am missing the most important part of me? But how can I survive with this incredible sadness? Which never will go away. That is the consistent theme among bereaved parents. The sadness never goes away. You just learn to live with it.

How does one survive a lifetime in such despair? I’ve read a lot of books on grief. Some have been helpful. They have been helpful by assuring me we are not alone in this and our feelings are normal. And in many of them you can see the long term and know that overall most bereaved parents end up doing ok. Many of the books I have found are Christian based, which I don’t relate to. Jews have different beliefs on the afterlife and in all honesty I have no idea what I believe anymore. It just devastates me to think that a sweet soul like Ariella and all the other innocent children who have died only get a short amount of time and that’s it. I do like to believe that there is more for them, but do I really believe it? I don’t know.

What I do know is that every experience now is tainted because Ariella is not a part of it. It just won’t be as good as it could have been. We know what’s missing. We will always think that Ariella should be there. How do we live a lifetime like that?