Vayekhi: Words

by Cathleen Cohen

She lived a 100-year span, Jean,

our grandmother, who summons us

one by one in those last days

for words, perhaps

wisdom. When it’s my turn

she dispatches the others to the kitchen,

motions me over, whispers

Liebkind, darling,

followed by long Yiddish sentences

I can’t translate.

When summoned his kin

to his deathbed, his favored

and unfavored sons,

he offered images for each

of springs and livestock,

men with strength like lions,

building havens for ships,

tending vineyards,

shouldering burdens,

or striking like vipers when angered.

And for , the promise

of racing on hillsides like a colt.

Was this advice to build

a vibrant life?

Jacob gave his blessings,

although some say he faltered,

eyes dim, mistaking grandsons,

Menasseh for Ephraim.

So who does my grandmother

think I am?

Her mother, her sister?

Is she recounting secrets

already lost?

I grasp her hands, whisper

love and let words

drift in air, then burst.

Posted in Becoming an Elder, Growing Older, Torah Portion: Parashah
aging, illness

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One Response

Steve Pollack says:

November 17, 2022 at 3:46 pm

She lived, indeed! Cathy, a heartfelt reflection. A moment you have captured in whispers of love.

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