My Conversion Story Journal

May 13, 2024

My heart is broken. Functioning this past week as almost impossible. I didn't talk to some people I loved, because I couldn't. I didn't attend some Hebrew classes, because I couldn't. I know what Judaism believes about death, but I spend days researching it anyway. I never expected grief to be a subject of one of my conversion entries, but Hashem has his own road map of my life.

I had a friend who died by gunshot wound last week. His story was in the papers. He was a teacher that I had gone to college with, tutored with in college, and worked at the same school with (both of our first teaching jobs). I had gone to college with his mother, his wife, and his brother. I remember him proposing to his wife. His smile was contagious, and he was willing to help anyone and gave his all to teaching others. He was a bright light that lit the fires of so many others.

He was also a light to me.

Grief has rules in Judaism. You are permitted to grieve for a week, then again in 30 days, a year, and every anniversary of their death. This is how the grieving process has gone for me.

Day 1 was shock. I was added to a group chat of college classmates with the same reaction of shock.

Day 2 shock and sadness and watched as the group chat talked good things about him, because he was all good. I started having private conversations with Hashem during my prayers. I never made it through any of them.

Day 3 I could not function. I went to work and informed a college who went to college with me and the person who died. Then, I broke. I put a blooket game on for students for them to play on material that we hadn't even covered yet just for something for them to do and still feel as though I was contributing to their learning or exposure of content. I cried repeatedly without the ability to stop. I called the school social worker and broke down in front of her. I have no idea how I conducted class after class. Even though I was there, I wasn't there. It was teacher appreciation week, and the lunch that was delivered was full of dairy and meat mixed. I gave mine away. I messaged my American Rabbi. I just wanted to get through the day. His response helped me to do that. I went home and went to bed. I never made it through a prayer all day. I tried, but the name of G-d, Adonai, Hashem, or any name for G-d made me stop and cry. My heart ached too much. I couldn't pray. My heart just called out to G-d in pain. In bed, while crying, I talked with my Hebrew tutor, GZ, on the phone. I talked with my prayer tutor, L, on the phone. Somehow, I slept.

Day 4 I cried out of the blue. I made plans with classmates to meet them at the funeral home for the showing. I had a responsibility to be there for his wife, his mother, and his brother. I taught content somehow between my breakdowns. The teacher appreciation lunch that was delivered had ham and cheese. I didn't eat. I made challah dough. A double batch. It rose a little long and I had a small mess to clean up. I checked in with multiple people this day: the school councilor, GZ, L, and messaged all my children to tell them I loved them. Again, praying was hard. I didn't make it through a prayer. My heart was still crying out in pain to Hashem.

Day 5 I took a half day so I could get in a short nap before driving across the state to make it to the funeral home. I taught content again during the hours I was there between my breakdowns. When I walked out of class in tears, the kids worried. I don't remember the teacher appreciation lunch or if I ate anything. I don't remember the drive to the funeral home. I stood in the funeral home outside the entrance and watched the video of my friend. In every picture throughout his childhood and adulthood, he had a big amazing smile on his face. I stood there for an hour. A friend showed up from college and walked in first. I somehow followed. I couldn't look at the open casket. It wasn't my friend. He was gone. I made his wife laugh, I hugged her tightly a couple times. I held his mother and father's hands. When his mother spoke, that's when I was informed, suicide. He died by suicide. I continued through the line hugging his sister and making his brother laugh. I was numb and broken. I can't imagine how they felt. I walked to a pizza place with my friend and his wife, caught up, and somehow drove home. I checked in with the same people and two of my daughters. I made it through the traveler's prayer in English on my way to work. That was the only prayer I made it through. I just held my siddur and kissed it, both in the morning and at night. Again, I couldn't get any words to come from my lips. My heart spoke to Hashem.

Day 6 I functioned most of the day at school and only broke down during class a few times. I have no idea what I did this day, but I remember that there was cheese pizza at lunch. My boss talked to me in the lunch room about the reference letter he sent. I hadn't looked at it yet. He said he hoped it helped, but at the same time that it doesn't. I knew what he meant. I made up a Hebrew class I missed, I think, or did I make my classes? I don't even remember. At crochet club, we played a card game. I watched everyone else laugh. If I laughed, I I don't remember. There was no joy in anything. I shared with my coworker what was going on before going home. I baked challah because it was Thursday. I have no idea how I did it. I made 8 loaves and a couple dozen rolls. I spent time researching death on Chabad. I attended a few Hebrew classes, and I private tutored a student in another state over Zoom at no charge. I chatted with random people about random things. I tried to attend a class with a Rabbi. I cried. A lot. I realized that I hadn't said Modeh Ani when I woke. I said it while saying part of the morning blessings. That is all I made it through.

Day 7 I tried to be okay. I still cried, but I was able to answer questions of students. I thought that the 7 day mourning rule was stupid. I cried without warning and had no control over the strength or length of my tears. My students ate bread every hour. Not a single person made a mess. How did 150 kids eat bread in my classroom and not make a mess? I taught a lesson and kids listened. I made it through the traveler's prayer in Hebrew. I said the Modeh Ani when I woke. I said the blessings and tried to make it through more prayer, but couldn't. After work, I packed a suitcase and headed to my daughter D house. She and her husband drove me down to a hotel within walking distance of my shul. I cried multiple times, but I said the traveler's prayer again in Hebrew. I didn't make it though anything else.

Day 8 I walked to shul. I tried to be okay. I put on make up (which broke Shabbat) so I wouldn't cry. My son-in-law pushed the elevator buttons for me. I wondered if I should have even been in an elevator. I caught myself every time I broke Shabbat. I shouldn't have pushed that button, or that button. I shouldn't have used my cell phone as an alarm. I shouldn't have used the GPS to make it until I knew where I was. I shouldn't have turned off my phone. I couldn't pray at shul though I tried. I couldn't follow along with the Torah or the Rabbi's message. I've never left shul having no idea what the message was about. I kept crying and tried hard to hold it in. It didn't work, and everyone was concerned. I was given a wad of tissues. I didn't want to tell anyone what happened, because it was Shabbat. Being sad is not permitted on Shabbat. I took an invitation (actually 2 separate ones by the same family) to go to lunch. I was thankful they asked, so I didn't have to go downstairs and cry in front of a large amount of people. It felt as though part of the light of Shabbat was missing. Part of the light of the sun was missing. Part of the light of my soul was missing. Two small babies (and their parents) joined us for lunch. I couldn't react much with the babies, but I watched them. I tried to feel their smiles and enjoy their giggles and noises. My soul felt as though there was a hole in it. They were a nice distraction and small spark of light. All I could think was that they were alive. That was all that mattered. Those two babies were alive. I went back to the hotel to take a nap. I slept through Women's Tehillim. I went to the lobby and read for two hours making it through 10 chapters. I ate delivery and went back to bed.

Day 9 It's mother's day. I said the Modeh Ani after my shower. I said my morning blessings and prayers. It took over an hour and three breaks, but I did it. I had a wonderful afternoon with my children and a friend. I listened to friendly council, ate good food, and went to stores to shop. I bought a bottle of water. I functioned all day. I attended three Hebrew classes and smiled and laughed at my mistakes. Multiple people from shul reached out to me. I told them what happened. I apologized for crying on Shabbat and thanked them for caring. Never this week did I feel alone. I was never alone. Hashem was with me and made sure there was someone every moment of the day to let me know that Hashem loves me. I still think the 7 day mourning rule is stupid because it is not possible to shut off mourning. However, I can function now. I can pray now, even though my heart cries out to G-d in pain throughout the day. I still feel an overwhelming sense of darkness and imbalance between good and bad in the world. I still feel a light missing from my soul that was there before. My sense of hope is 100% faith and no feeling. I'm still broken. I will try to pray before bed. Even if it is just a paragraph.