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Posts Tagged ‘legacy’

Note: I will be Counting the Omer for a total of 49 days, from Passover to Shavuot or from Slavery to Freedom. For many, this is simply the Counting the Omer; for others, it is a tool for exploring the kabbalistic teachings in an organized way. For me, it is a time to actively reflect on my Journey Towards Wholeness. The more I am whole, the more free I will become.  [http://t.co/dBPYjDxSGj . . . .]

red yahrzeit candle

My mother’s yahrzeit was today.  While I nearly forgot, my body remembered; my body always remembers.  By mid-day, a headache formed making it impossible for me to relax and enjoy my afternoon.  In fact, as I found myself with time in one of my favorite parts of the country, Woodstock (New York), yet all I could do was take time to talk to my sons and then come back to the house I am staying to shower and write.

I needed to be alone. I needed to to take time to release the tears that often remain latent. While tonight, I don’t feel like I can allow the tears to flow freely, I am allowing them to come to my eyes.  Once I know that I will have hours of privacy, I may take the time I need to cry.

While I now realize that life for Marilyn was far from easy, I acknowledge that my life as her daughter was horrible. I will never forget what I endured on a daily basis.  Still, I am not sure she could help herself; she was too sick to manage her body and mind. As I result, there will be moments of my life when I have to navigate a few too many emotional wounds.  The good news is that I can now go months without considering the impact of my childhood pain. I am so blessed that all the years of hard work are paying off. While dark memories may come, they only last for brief moments not for any length of time!!!

Each year, I try seek a healthy way of approaching Marilyn’s life and death.  For some reason, this year, I am feeling deeply scarred by her legacy and more vulnerable then I’d like to admit.

Instead of hiding in the shadows of pain, I want to bask in the light inspired me to thrive – always.  My Omer Reflections have continuously motivated me to keep finding tools to support me in My Journey Towards Wholeness. I am alive! This is the time to keep nurturing my life in the best ways possible!!

My mother’s life and subsequent death filled me with tools for survival and thriving.  That awareness feels awesome.  That is what I am focusing on as I move into Day 23 of the Counting of the Omer.  Today, I find myself committing to life and doing whatever it takes to thrive.

My mother harmed her body by continuously filling her body with drugs and alcohol. With that in mind, I am going to start my mornings off with food that is nurturing and energy provoking. Lately, I have noticed that breakfast always leaves me tired. Upon reflection, I realized that the only time I felt energetic and ready for the morning is when I begin the day with a green smoothie, so tomorrow, I will begin that routine again.  AND on my way back home, I will finally purchase the Ninja (smoothie maker/blender) and fruit/veggies for my daily smoothies. It’s time. Originally, I was going to wait until I moved to Houston, but waiting no longer seems prudent.

While money is still tight for me right now, being healthy is a bigger challenge.  I have work to do and I don’t want to wait any longer. My mother’s yahrzeit  inspired me to take better care of myself; I am worth making healthy.

All ideas for making healthy smoothies are welcome! I need your help!

With love, light, and blessings,
Chava

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13 years later. . . . .

Let’s get one reality out of the way.  My father was a deeply flawed human being that made significant mistakes over the course of his lifetime especially when it came to raising and protecting his little girl, me.  Yet, I am blessed that I can celebrate another side to a man I love deeply.  A long time ago, I chose to let go of the pain, to move forward, and to spend a lot more time remembering the extraordinary parts of my father.  And regardless of some of the challenges, he was an amazing Zaydie to his grandchildren and a loving soul to those that crossed his path.

Everyone that knew my father loved him.  Everyone.

While he struggled with my mother and the challenges that she posed, he was able to leave most of those feelings behind once he walked out our kitchen door.  Morry loved the world and much of what it had to offer.  He was a passionate reader, a lover of music, and a kind soul.

I am who I am because Morry Bloomberg was my father; he raised me to love people, stories, and music.  A day has not gone by without me thinking about my father and the many legacies he left behind.

My father guided me to walk in the world with a deep appreciation for each and every person in the human race while sharing brief words, stories, or jokes with all.  To this day, I feel guilty if I don’t want to interact with a cashier or someone holding the door.  My father taught me to be better than that, he taught me to acknowledge each and every person that I made eye contact with.

Sharing Stories and Jokes

I loved how my father had a story or joke to share with each and every person he met each day; he never hesitated to talk to any person that crossed his path; he always had a small offering to share. I was especially struck by his knowledge of everything going on in the news and how he would share information from all that he was reading at any given moment.  He was always reading.

Morry loved all people. Cashiers and family/friends were on equal footing; the doctor and the guys that took care of our yard were each human beings.  No one was better than anyone else.  And if anyone needed his help, he would do whatever he could to help.

Each and every person that I have met over the years believed that they were close friends with my dad.  He always had time for the person that was in front of him.  One of the reasons, I never use a cell phone in front of a cashier is because I believe he would quite literally have a cow if I every ignored a human being that was in front of me.  I can almost hear him expressing his dissatisfaction if I had chosen to disregard any person in front of me.  My moods didn’t count; I believe he taught me that I was here to serve, to bring joy into people’s lives for just a moment.  A kind word, a sweet story, or a smile makes a difference.

Turn Table and record (vinyl) - Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Loebman

Turn Table and record (vinyl) – Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Loebman (who never stopped loving music or vinyl)

Music and Records

Another one of my favorite things about my father was his love for music.  He shared that love with everyone.  All of my friends loved that he knew more about vinyl and shared what he had with anyone that wanted.  But for me, I treasured how we used to take rides to any of his record stores and spend the entire time singing together.  On the rare occasion, that he could keep me out of my house for days on end, we would sing, share stories, and connect in ways that I will miss forever.  With him, I could find peace for as long as we were together.

Dad took me to my first concerts sometimes with my friends and often times with just the two of us.  He even took my friend Elizabeth and I to a KISS concert; he couldn’t hear for a week after that.  (And for the rest of his life, he never let me forget what he did for Elizabeth and I.) Our seats were center and close to the stage; I think he was as excited as we were to provide this opportunity for us.

My father introduced me to all music and many people in the music business.  I met musicians, sound men (they were all men back then), managers, producers.  I heard and learned about rock, country, bluegrass, pop, classical (although not much), and whatever was popular at any given moment.  My father taught me love of all music. Not only did he teach me, but he introduced music to everyone.  He was particularly kind and loving towards my friends and our neighbors on Pikeswood Drive outside Baltimore where I grew up.  Sharing music made my father feel happy and whole.

Today and every day, I remember how my father walked in the world and I realize that the apple didn’t fall from the tree.  My hope and my prayer is that I am nearly as loving and kind as my father was.

I miss him, but feel grateful for the gifts he did give me.

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For many reasons, the summer of 2001 was absolutely one of the darkest periods in my life.  For 6.5 weeks, I sat watching my father struggle for life and then let go of life.  Exactly 6.5 weeks after discovering he had brain cancer, he was dead.  For the first five weeks he fought valiantly for his life and then he let go.

Watching him beat up his dying body with radiation and then chemo nearly killed me.  I loved my father.  While our relationship was extraordinarily complicated, I hated watching him suffer.  While he couldn’t always take care of me as a child, he loved me and he really did try. And the good news is he came through as a zaydie, he was an amazing grandfather to my children.

During his final week, I looked at my Abba (father) and said, “I am so sorry you are going through this.’ And with that he responded with five simple words that have since become my life’s motto. “It is what it is.”

MugItIsWhatItIs2

Those words have helped me manuever life for over 12 years.  They provide comfort and allow me to accept reality without going crazy.  Sometimes life is beautiful; sometimes life is less than beautiful.  There is nothing simple about life; there are hours, days, weeks when life feels challenging or even crippling.  And there are times when my spirit soars and inner peace fills my soul.  It is what it is!

‘It is what it is’ helps me navigate the world with a little more ease.  While I am still one of the most intense people I know, these words allow me to be present in wherever I am at any given moment.  These simple words remind me to breathe deeply,  to hang on for the ride, to seek the gifts within reality, and to be ok with what is!

What a gift this little phrase has been for me!! Yay!!!  Perhaps in these five words I found the greatest legacy that my father left me.  How surreal that it came during his last days or maybe even last hours of consciousness; 12 years after his death, that thought is resonating with me.

A couple of months ago, two close friends send a gift; this gift was a surprise in every way.  It wasn’t my birthday or even a momentous occasion; my friends were just being the thoughtful and loving people that they are!  As I looked in the box I was so jazzed by what the mug in the box said and then I realized that while the mug came in three unexpected pieces,  the message was still the same.  How ironic!!!  It is what it is!  I love how my friends ‘got me’ !!  The  knew that these words inspire me to walk through the world as I do.  Broken or not, this mug is still making me smile.  How cool is that!?!?!

May we all learn to honor what is even as something different then expected comes our way.

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