Hello, Goodbye, Sniff, Sniff

I’ve been very teary this week, reacting strongly to beginnings and ends. I’ve felt my heart expand with joy and also break a little with sadness. There are airport arrivals and departures, the start of adventures, the end of an era, loved ones leaving while others return. I’ve attended a joyous engagement party, but, unfortunately, have also made a shiva call. A group hug made me sniffle. I even choked up at our outgoing assistant rabbi’s farewell speech. My kids look at me with mild amusement, (or is it disdain?) as my eyes fill up. I know what they’re thinking, “oh no, there she goes again.” I can’t help it, it’s my nature.

I’ve never been good at goodbyes. I mean beyond the traditional Jewish reluctance to depart, often becoming an endlessly lingering conversation on topics of sudden importance in the open doorway. I anticipate adieu’s with a tight knot of tension in the pit of my stomach, even when the separation will be temporary. I struggle to keep my equanimity, but it’s a losing battle. I remember each time we left my father-in-law, Grandpa Selwyn, at the Durban airport, I’d wonder when we’d meet again and promptly start the waterworks. The same goes for some aunties with whom I feel a close connection. Hellos could be extremely emotional, too; I was so nervous when I met my uncle from Cuba for the first and each of the few subsequent times. I had to swallow down the huge lump in my throat for fear that he’d think his long lost niece was too sentimental…

Those instances may validly merit emotional displays, but fairly regular events get me going too. I tear up when dropping off my son at college, at most milestone events, viewing old photos, even while raising a glass to a well-worded toast. My dad’s yearly Rosh Hashanah and Pesach seder talks can do it. So can a shehecheyanu blessing. It takes way too much effort to sublimate my feelings so as to avoid a loss of control. Holding it in is unpleasant and the emotion will probably explode out later at an inopportune time. Why not simply give in and allow the tears to flow naturally? I certainly know it would feel better.

Well, I suppose one reason is that I’ve already been asked by my child not to cry at the airport this weekend. I’ve noticed people get very embarrassed by public emotional displays and ironically also by silence. It’s apparent in confrontations with extreme reactions like loud hysterical laughter or uncontrolled weeping. I’ve noticed a constant chatter at shivas, which seems to signify that visitors are uncomfortable with simply sitting together quietly when there’s really nothing to say. Fortunately we have scripts of traditional words to utter at those occasions, which, along with our presence, is all that’s needed.

Although I connect to the many principles of yoga, which are so similar to our own Jewish beliefs, there is at least one that is totally beyond me. The philosophy of non-attachment provides important guidance to help one stay away from negative traits and actions including addictions, toxic relationships or the need to attain and acquire unnecessary baggage. However, non-attachment may also be extended to concepts, beliefs, and even to positive connections to beings, both human and animal. The idea is that we are supposed to have enough faith and trust in G-d’s plan to be able to let go of our worries and expectations associated with material and non-material things. We should just be, without a care in the world.

That goes against my grain. I believe that healthy attachments to our loved ones are absolutely critical to our lives as humans. In fact, what else is there, really? Caring for and loving deeply give us meaning, purpose, and focus. For me, engaging with the special people in my life and being involved in theirs is what it’s all about. It gives me opportunities to fully experience the range of highs and lows that come with having a heart and soul. Though of course I don’t actually want to deal with any of the low points, it’s a necessary evil which is probably what makes the good times so blissfully sweet.

As long as I actively participate in deep relationships with family and friends, I will continue to support the Kleenex company by keeping wads of tissues handy in my pockets at all times. (It would be great if I could remember to get rid of the clean ones instead of finding hundreds of bits and pieces flying around my dryer, but that’s another story.) For despite my efforts to keep within the socially acceptable limit of outward emotion, it’s inevitable that I’ll be shedding tears, both anticipated and unexpected. So I will be that mom sniffling at drop off, or at best, valiantly keeping it together till the drive back home. I sincerely wish that, as much as is possible on this earth, there would be no reason for anyone to cry anything other than tears of joy.

Miriam Bradman Abrahams is Cuban born, Brooklyn bred and lives in Woodmere. She organizes author events for Hadassah, reviews books for Jewish Book World and is very slowly writing her father’s immigration story. She is teaching yoga at Peaceful Presence Yoga Studio. mabraha1@optonline.net