10.10.2008

Yarzheit Five

Hello Avi and Ximena. Five years, that seems like such a landmark. I had a hard time today, I found more rage than sadness beneath the surface. Whether this a stage of grief or a state of being I have no idea.

This year we explained you to your sister. She wants a sibling badly, and is particularly taken with the idea of brothers, and it occurred to me how strange it is that we are now explaining you to your younger sister, but you are the babies. "Ximena is a girl's name," she said. "That's a longer story," said your dad quietly. "Sometimes boys and girls have the same name," I said, loud enough to hear.

We lit the candles, and I visited with them and my memories of you a few times today. But nothing compared to hearing your names read aloud tonight at services. Avraham Freedman. Ximena Freedman. We never hear your names aloud unless we say them, and I was reminded how powerful it is to hear your names spoken by others. Tears sprung instantly, we held each other and your sister, grateful for her miraculous presence in our lives, missing the opportunity to know you.

There, in the same sanctuary where your sister was named, with the large crowd an impending bar and bat mitzvah bring, I thought of the life passages that we will not share with you. I remembered the magnitude of our loss. I remembered that I am the mom of three.

I love you both, Avi and Ximena, as fiercely as the day I held you.

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