Yesterday I was blessed and honored to attend and celebrate Jacob becoming a Bar Mitzvah. Jacob is Abby's son, one of my oldest and dearest friends. It was a beautiful day and Jacob did an exceptional job reading from the Torah, reading his Haftorah, and giving a speech with poise and a bit of humor. I honestly didn't know Jacob very well but I felt like I knew more about him after witnessing such an important event. I like him very much.
I decided that I was going to just "take in" the time at temple. No following along in the burgundy prayer book. No taking out the blue book when it was time to read the Torah. I simply let the prayers wash over me. I listened to the familiar tunes and watched the familiar routines of taking out the Torah and parading it around the temple. The temple was more in line to the traditions of the temple of my childhood and there was comfort in that. All the men wearing yarmulkes. Some praying with tzis-tzis. their tallit draped over their heads. The Rabbi spoke about his upcoming trip to Israel where he will witness his own son becoming a Bar Mitzvah at the Western Wall, his voice cracking with the emotional impact of such a journey.
It was wonderful to see the joy and pride in Abby's face. I loved what she and her husband Adam shared about Jacob in their speeches. It brought back sweet memories of my own children's B'nei Mitzvah which were a few years back but seemed like yesterday. I remember that feeling of sharing your pride in your child with friends and family. I shed a few tears as I watched Abby and Adam do the same.
I felt very emotional yesterday. I found myself getting choked up talking to Abby's parents, who I adore. They have always been so kind to me and I struggled to tell them that I love them without crying. It was lovely reconnecting with some of Abby's high school friends, who over the years had become my friends as well. The memories of lazy summer days at the pool, and walks down Nassau Street in Princeton came flooding back.
I spent much of my day and night loving on Lisa. She lives in Florida, and we see each other about four times a year. However Lisa checks on me every day. Through text, or sending me a link to a relevant online story, or just a funny picture of herself. These connections mean...everything?...so much?...it is difficult for me to put into words how important she is to me. When I try to express to Lisa or other friends their importance in my life, I cry. I actually bawl uncontrollably. And so, that is how I left Lisa and Abby last night - bawling like a child. But when you have been friends for as long as we have, and have been through as much as we have, the words are not necessary.
Honestly it is hard for me to say, admit, and reconcile in my head, but I think one of the reasons I cry when I say goodbye is the uncertainty. Because I don't know how my future will play out, I question if I will see her again. Will this be it? And if it is not the last time what will my body be able to do or not do the next time I see her? Will I be able to talk? Eat? Share a glass of wine? The uncertainty is killing me. There is never enough time.