A Bracha for Those That Remain

Laura McGuire

In the midst of loss, a mystery prevails

That of time’s unaltered continuation

Of the mundane’s prevailing heartbeat, where the silence of another’s louder still

How, each morning after you left this earth, did the sun decide to rise once again?

Why does the dog still whine for breakfast, and laundry demand to be washed?

Where can we locate the courage to greet the rising of each day with grace when the weight of sorrow is heavily laden on our hearts?

You, our beloved, have gone on to the greatest adventure

While we who remain at the base camp, called life, rally ourselves to decide to take on the brave act of inhaling one more breath

May the everyday existence that now appears so off-putting be our refuge

At a table with one less chair, may we feel your lingering smile in the food we once prepared together

Along the familiar path we walked, now with the melody of one less set of footsteps, may we see your radiant gaze in the ways that the sun hits the gracious trees

When the fading of the fragrant notes subsides in the clothes you wore, may we inhale your perfume one more time and know that this scent will forever grace the warmth of our memories

When your absence feels bleak, may we bask in the warmth of your life, so well lived

You have returned to wherever we all come from, and one day, may we look up and relish in the fact that our separation is no more


[The author notes that in Judaism, a bracha is a kind of blessing.]