Learning how to grieve with an open heart.

They say that the best place to get sick is in a hospital - surrounded by doctors. I think that, perhaps, the best place to learn of a loss is in Rabbinical school. Let me qualify that: perhaps the best place to mourn is in a place that brings you the support that you need.

In my "immediate" family there have always been, what are in my mind "The Big Three Aunts," - this past week, one of those "Big Three" left her physical existence on this earth. What I now understand is that the pillar that was her existence in my life will always be there. The gifts which she bestowed upon me, both physical and not, will always remain. She fostered in me a love of literature, as she was the self proclaimed Book Aunty, an appreciation of the spirituality of beauty and an understanding of our family history.

One of the hardest parts of this loss, for me, is being so far from home while grieving. If I were home, my grief would be no less profound nor difficult, but I would have the built in support of my family. Here, I have had to challenge myself to reach out for support - and have been rewarded greatly by the outpouring of help, love, and comfort. A large part of my choosing this path in life has been my desire, and in fact, my instinct to care for others. When I came to Jerusalem, I hoped that this year would give me the opportunity to really return unto myself - to examine who I am, and what I am about. I never expected challenges the likes of which Jerusalem has presented. I've come to understand that I have an incredibly difficult time asking for help when I need it - to a fault. Blessedly, while coming to terms with this aspect of my personality, I've also been able to take steps to change that behavior. As often comes when we truly take steps to make change, I've been rewarded, if not perhaps in the ways that I would have envisioned. Friends here, both within and without the HUC community, have been present to help as I stumble blindly through this period of mourning.

Another, and equally challenging part of this loss for me has been the understanding that, while my family continues to expand with births and marriages, it is going to, inevitably, begin to shrink as well. This current loss is the first I've experienced in the generation of women who, in my mind, have been ever-present. I keep saying that I do not know how to exist in a world where she does not - not because we were constantly in contact, but because knowing that she was there, as a part of my history, present, and future was simply a given. Now that she is not, I am forced to come to terms with the imminent reality of death and loss that every family must face.

What I am grateful for are those around me who have responded when I have reached out, either tentatively or overtly, and those who have stepped in with a caring hand when I've not asked for it, but obviously needed it. I stood on my balcony tonight after having passed the last few hours with an old friend and a bottle of wine, and had one of those moments of peace that I so rarely have with Jerusalem, and God. I'm pretty comfortable in my conception of the Divine, and God's presence in my life - but I rarely open the window that leads from theory to experience. I breathed in the crisp and cold Jerusalem air and suddenly felt the warmth of understanding that, while I am far from my family of origin, I am never far from my family of choice. I am so lucky that I have been rewarded for opening my heart by an immediate in-pouring of affection and support.

This journey of mourning will be difficult and long, it's not supposed to be easy. Mostly it will be difficult to come to terms with my own personal loss, and our loss as a family - the selfish griefs that come with mourning. Meanwhile, I'm grateful for the gift that I've been given of opening my heart to let others in, instead of the reverse - which is usually a much easier process for me. I'm quicker to give than I am to receive. Jerusalem has taught be how to receive, has forced me to learn how. A lesson of tough-love from a country full of both toughness and love - if only I'm willing to open and welcome the gifts of those around me.