“…one who runs from honor will have it pursue him.” – Talmud (Eruvin 13b)
This phrase came up a number of times last week as we clung to family following the tragic passing of my sister-in-law, Ahuva*, a”h. She was a tremendous woman, someone who loved Torah and mitzvos and strived to observe them in the best way possible. She went about her life quietly, without fanfare, though those who knew her recognized that she was a unique woman of stature. Through her nine children, one can see the love and attention she poured into them. In her amazingly organized home, one can see the thought and care she put into creating a warm and nurturing environment for her family to thrive.
She didn’t seek out honor, but after her death it certainly sought her. Many important people in her community and beyond came to pay their respects. Some drove for six hours just to express their condolences. I’ve had people contact me, telling me that even though they never met my sister-in-law, they felt very inspired by her story (which you can hear, in part, here, in the recording of the eulogies at her funeral).
Even though I wasn’t obligated to observe the laws of mourning as dictated by Jewish law, I felt touched by the process and awed by the wisdom in the halacha. The practice, from the funeral through the shiva was transformative, and listening to so many beautiful memories of Ahuva was healing.
There are so many things that are still swirling around in my head and heart, and I imagine it will take me some time to process, but one thing in particular jumps out at me right now.
A rabbi and neighbor said that if we all truly realized why we are here in this life, we would live very differently. Life is short, and sometimes much shorter than we think. After we are gone from this world, we are no longer able to perform mitzvos or accumulate merits on our own. It is so easy to get distracted, to become focused on things that seem important now, but in the long run, are just diversions.
Ahuva was someone who kept her eyes on the real purpose of life, and was determined to make every effort to do the right thing, even if it wasn’t popular or easy. One thing she had asked for, in her memory, was that people continue to make brachos out loud, and that those who hear answer “amen.” I was moved at the simplicity and profundity of this request. Here is a mitzvah that is really easy to do correctly, yet so many times I end up quietly (and unintelligibly) mumbling my brachos. Through her unpretentious desire to do things in the best way possible, she is elevating my own observance of this mitzvah, and I am so grateful for that.
The thirty days following a person’s death are known as the shloshim. During this time some have the custom to learn as a merit for the soul of the deceased. It would bring me comfort if all of you reading this post would do something as a merit for the soul of my sister-in-law, Ahuva bas Avraham. It doesn’t even have to be something extra, it could be taking a routine mitzvah and, in her memory, trying to do it in the best way possible. You don’t have to be Orthodox to contribute to this. Something like lighting Shabbos candles just for this month, or reading a little bit on Aish.com or Chabad.org about the upcoming holiday of Purim would be a merit as well.
Here are some other suggestions:
- Saying blessings with concentration, slowly, clearly and out loud
- Bentching from a siddur or bencher instead of by memory
- Lighting Shabbos candles five or ten minutes early
- Learning the laws of Tznius, a mitzvah that Ahuva loved very dearly
- Learning the laws of speech. Ahuva and I were supposed to start learning from Rabbi Zelig Pliskin’s book Guard Your Tongue, but sadly, we never had a chance to start.
- Refraining from sharing a juicy bit of gossip
- Giving charity (even just putting a coin in a pushka)
- Refraining from talking in shul
- Reviewing the six constant mitzvos
- Thinking about and being grateful for the many blessings in our lives
May we all grow from experiences of sadness and be able to share in happy occasions together.
*some of you may remember my sister-in-law as Ariela. During her illness, she was advised to change her name to Ahuva, and after her passing, it was decided to keep this newer name.
13 thoughts on “Life is Short; Make the Most of It”
boruch dayan haemes. wishing your family comfort amongst the mourners of zion.
I’m sorry to hear this news. Baruch dayan ha-emet.
So sorry for your loss. She sounds like a wonderful woman who truly touched all those around her.
Baruch Dayan HaEmes – Yehi Ratzon that you and your family have true comfort and that her memory continue to elevate not only her neshama, but all of Klal Yisrael.
Baruch dayan ha emes
So sorry for your family’s loss, Rivki. I will keep in mind Ahuva while I do mitzvah.
Oh Rivki, I’m so sorry for your loss. Please know I am keeping you, your husband, his family, and especially Ahuva’s husband and children, lifted up in prayer during this time of grief.
Baruch Dayan Ha’Emes. I donated money to tzedaka in her memory.
I’m South African so, apart from the usual, I also wish you (and yours) long life. That may seem odd, coming after a death, but it really means that I wish you have as much time in your life as possible to continue in your mitzvot and to continue to bring honour to those who have passed on. I’m starting a new book today called “Outpouring of the soul” – it’s about prayer and seems interesting to me. I’ll be reading it in Ahuva and my Dad’s memory as we unveil his tombstone on Sunday.
So sorry to hear of your loss. Your sister in law was obviously a wonderful woman. Please accept my deepest sympathy.
Baruch dayan haemet. I know how hard it is to lose a sister, may it be not as hard for you and your family. In grateful for this woman’s contribution to the world and will make a contribution of mitzvot in her honor.
Oh Rivki, I was so sorry to hear about your sister’s-in-law sickness and now the loss you’ve all experienced. This post is a beautiful tribute to her.
Baruch Dayan Haemes. RIvki I JUST heard the news from someone in my community who I am close with, and where Ariela and I were both bas bayis in Passaic when we were first becoming frum and before we each got married. We lost touch over these years, and I am SO heartbroken to hear of this tragic loss for your family and for klal Yisroel. May the family know no more sorrow and may Ariela/Ahuva’s memory be only for a blessing for generations to come!