By Nanci R Horn American Public University HDFS 503– Death, Dying and Grief: A Child's Perspective Breinne Regan May 24, 2022
SUMMERS OVER BY NANCI R HORN
IS OVER……
It was 7:oo in the morning and the alarm on my phone rang to wake me up for the first day of fifth grade. I hate that my summer is over, even though this was one of the worst summers ever. But I am so excited that my favorite teacher Ms. Levy is moving up from third to fifth, and she is my homeroom teacher.
SCHOOL DAY ONE
I walked into class, and
Ms. Levy saw me, smiled, and said hello. She then walked over to
me, bent down, and whispered, “I just heard about your mom and sister. If you need anything, just come see me.” It took all my
strength to hold back my tears.
After we took our seats and Ms. Levy took attendance
she announce ”To start our year off let’s get to know
each. Please write our first
journal entry and write about your summer.”
My heart dropped.
This is my story of why this was the worst summer EVER!
My summer began like all others. I was at my best friend Caryn’s house, and we were playing in her pool like every other day. As far as I was concerned, this was beginning to be the best summer.
Caryn said, “I love your new bikini.” It was the red one with little white hearts that my mom had just bought me. Sitting on the side of the pool scrawling through TikTok, laughing at all the funny videos while Mrs. Harold was making us chocolate chip pancakes on the outdoor griddle. Let’s make a TikTok video… Sure,” Caryn said as she picked up her phone and went to get her tripod
We hear Caryn’s mom call from the outdoor kitchen, “Pancakes, hot off the griddle!”
Mrs. Harold didn’t have to ask us twice. We left the video making for pancakes and headed over to the outdoor kitchen, where Caryn’s mom served us, pancakes shaped like hearts.
Caryn rolled her eyes and cut her heart right down the middle. “She is so embarrassing,” Caryn whispered.
I laughed and nodded; Mrs. Harold loves her kids and goes out of her way to show her kids displays of affection; it drove Caryn and her brother nuts.
MY WORLD WILL NEVER BE THE SAME The phone rang, and Mrs. Harold picked it up while I was drenching my pancakes with maple syrup. I was about the put a giant bite into my mouth when I heard her gasp into the phone.
Caryn and I looked up. Mrs. Harold looked in our direction. “Oh, vey, oh vey,” she said into the phone with panic in her eyes….
Caryn looked at me puzzled. I told her “Oh vey meant oh my god or oh no.”
“Something is burning?’ David, Caryn’s 16-year-old brother, yelled as he came outside. The griddle started to smoke due to the last batch of pancakes burning. Caryn and I did not know what to say and just stared at each other.
“Shh!” Caryn and I both said with one finger to our lips. We tilted our heads in the direction of Mrs. Harold, who quickly noticed the smoke and turned off the griddle but left the pancakes sizzling to cool off.
Ms. Harold continued speaking to whomever she was on the phone. She kept repeating, “Yes, ok, no problem, I understand,” and “Oh vey, oh vey.” Then she said, “I am so sorry, Sol, we are here if you need anything.” My heart raced, and my stomach dropped. I thought to myself, “ my dad’s name is Sol.”
She then proceeded to walk over to me, bending down next to me, she placed her hand on my chair. “Sam, the phone call was from your dad. He is at Memorial Hospital.” “Wait, what! Is he okay?” “My mom, my sister?” my heart was racing as I asked. “Yes, Punim (beautiful), he is fine,” Mrs. Harold said. She sighed. “But, a couple of hours ago, there was a car accident.” “An accident?” I questioned.
As she nodded, ”I need to take you to the hospital.” “Tell me what happened,, please” I exclaimed Mrs. Harold looked down anywhere but my eyes.
Your dad just wanted me to bring you to the hospital. He didn’t give me any details, but I can get you there fast. The hospital is only about 5 minutes away.” Caryn wanted to come along, but her mom wanted her to stay at home. I was still soaking wet from the pool. But changed into my shorts and t-shirt as fast as I could and got into her SUV. I was unsure if I was shaking from my nerves or my wet hair.
All I could think about was my tenyear-old sister, Morgan, and my mom lying in a hospital bed attached to wires and machines. Then that they would see God, I closed my eyes and thought, “please take care of them.”
I was always a worrier when my parents were not home. Like when we would stay with Bubbi when they were on vacation, I had to speak to them every night or morning, so I did not have any nightmares. I only lived ten minutes from my Bubbi and Papa, but I was always scared about what would happen to us. Then when they got home, I knew God looked after them. Admittingly in my heart, I knew that it was very different this time. My gut told me that Mom and Morgan were not ok. If they were, Mrs. Harold would have said so. As we drove to the hospital, she did turn on the radio and talk to me or anything.
“Dad,” I yelled, running into his arms, “What happened? Where is Mom or Morgan.” The police and Mrs. Harold left us alone to talk as he cried and shook for a minute. “What,” I yelled. “Tell me.” Daddy sat down and pulled me onto his lap. “Your mom and sister didn’t make it, Sam. They were hurt worse than they thought in the accident.”
My Heart felt like it was breaking. I started jumping up and down, yelling, “No, No.” Looking my dad straight in the eyes, “What do you mean, what happened.” He started rubbing the back of his neck. “They were into an accident with a truck. The ambulance brought them to the hospital and tried their hardest but could not save them.” “I am so sorry. It was too late.” “What do you mean?” Using my fist and pounding on his chest. “Please, Daddy, tell me you're wrong, and it’s not true.”
My Bubbi and Pappa came to the hospital and took dad and me home. When we got home I sat down on the porch. I told my dad and grandparents, “I wouldn’t go into the house until Morgan and Mom came home.” My Bubbi sat down on the chair next to me and said, “Your mom and sister have had an accident and have died from their injuries. They won’t be coming back home from the hospital as we hoped. But know your Dad, Papa, and I love you. We will be here to take care of you, is that okay?”
UNDERSTANDING A JEWISH FUNERAL My dad, papa, and bubbi gave me a stuffed lion. The lion symbol came to represent the blessing, majesty, and even divine protection of the Jews the lion symbol came to represent the blessing, majesty, and even divine protection of the Jews. They told me it was from my mom.
The four of us sat around quietly for a little bit. They said they wanted to explain what would happen at a Jewish funeral. “First, we will go to the temple, and Rabbi Frazin will say some prayers, and then I will go up to say a few words about Mom and Morgan. After that, the Pallbearers who will carry the caskets, which is what they will be buried in, to the car that will take them to the cemetery. Since we are Jewish, we will go to a Jewish cemetery, and Rabbi will say a few more prayers, then lower the caskets halfway down into the ground.
It is a tradition that before leaving the cemetery, the deceased’s loved ones toss a handful of dirt or soil on the coffin.
This symbolizes that the deceased has returned to where he came from – man comes from the earth, and so must he return to earth. Usually, a spouse or a close family member will be the first to throw dirt on the coffin, followed by others who were close to them.
I just sat there, not knowing what to say. My dad asked, “do you have any questions?”
When I didn’t respond he continued “Before all this
happens, the rabbi will place a black strip of cloth on your clothes, then tear it a little,” Papa explained. “Kriah is the tradition of rending garments to represent the tear in your heart when losing a loved one. It is a way to show outwardly that you are in mourning. Originally, people tore their clothing to represent their loss, but we sometimes use a black ribbon today. Kriah is the tradition of rending garments to represent the tear in your heart when losing a loved one.”
The funeral wasn’t as scary as I thought. I felt like I was floating and not really in my body. When we got back to the house there we no flowers, just lots of food.
I asked Bubbi, “why is there so much food?” She explained.” In the Jewish faith, a funeral is a solemn occasion. Flowers are supposed to take away from the sadness and the actual purpose of the funeral. Because flowers die, they are only a temporary memorial.”
SCHMOOZE
We began sitting shiva. My grandma told me, “ A shiva is a Jewish way we mourn. Right after the burial and will last for seven days.”
Shiva and Schmoozing.
What helped was that during this week,
friends. And relatives visited and came to comfort us. The ritual allowed us to share our sadness and schmooze. What helped me was trading different stories and memories about Mom and Morgan. By the end of the week, I knew that they were in all of our memories even though we had lost them.
ליבע און שלום libe aun shlum – love and peace (In Hebrew you read from right to left)
When I told everyone in my class about my summer, my friends hugged me and asked me to say to them some of the funny stories if I was up to it. My greatest lesson about grief is that we have to choose every day, see the positive, and be grateful for all we had, what we lost, and how loved we were.