Journal entry by Eve Ilsen — 21 minutes ago
Pesach is really over.
It has been like living in a somewhat altered state of consciousness for more than a week, counting the preparations. What freedoms stand out as attainable, desirable or threatened, this year?
Collectively or personally?
Meanwhile, I have saved the last of the matzo of the second seder: my beloved taught that the matzo of the first seder feeds faith; that of the second seder feeds healing. So a small hand-thrown bowl on the living room table holds what remains of the matzo from the second seder; I have kept the custom of giving small bits of that second-seder-matzo as needed. There is often a little bit still left in the bowl as we return to Pesach the following year.
Twice I have chanted the beginning verses of Shir haShirim this Pesach. I remembered Zalman, z'l, writing a holy verse on the drywall of each room before we painted: a verse from Song of Songs on the wall above where we knew we would place our bed.
I drove home after that last gathering, after the last chanting; after havdalah separated us from shabbbat until next week and from Pesach until next year. Now, inevitably, I feel the stark reality of the other separations. I notice that I assume I will somehow see my beloved again when it is my turn to die.
But what if he is off on another assignment, in another world? What if he is already a baby with a mission somewhere else?
Is there a heavenly bulletin board where we can leave messages for those after whom our hearts yearn?
I wish us well during this week, as we count the Omer, of Gevurah.