Eichah Yashvah Boddod..

There is some solace in mourning together but great heartbreak in mourning alone.

A little over a year ago I lost a brother of mine to cancer. I am in no way recovered from the loss, at all. Still, there was something comforting about a levaya of all of us crying; of a shiva when people came and shared in our pain. Tzaros Rabbim Chatzi Nechama.

In stark contrast was the wedding I went to this week. A different brother over here, one that molested me, made a wedding for his daughter, my niece. In truth, I didn’t think I would get an invitation to the wedding at all. When my husband told the Kallah Mazel Tov, shortly after her engagement by a family bris, her mother who was standing there abruptly turned her head the other way. Three weeks prior to the wedding at my brother’s Yartzheit Seudah, my sister-in-law blatantly ignored my existence. In fact the invitation which I did not think I would get, came a mere two weeks prior to the wedding. And it was a decision I agonized about, to go or not to, ultimately choosing between worse and worser, as there are no ideal solution for these scenarios.

I decided to go to the wedding and to leave prior to the dancing, which I did. I feel the decision worked well for me. But still, it didn’t negate or take away the pain,that comes from these situations. Not during, and not subsequently after. Not from my mother saying “I am so glad you are coming. You will see everything will get better from here” – nor to a sibling of mine sending an email that 'he saw me at the Chupa, and couldn’t find me at the dancing, but was glad that we met ‘oif simchos’ '. Their denial is so hurtful to me, it feels crushing and devastating.

And it struck me – to be mourning, when others are celebrating; to be hurting when others are sharing joy – just adds. It causes the pain of origin to expand and grow; to mushroom into gargantuan proportions.

I’ve come to the realization recently that opposites are not always that far apart. Was my decision to go a sign of strength or weakness? Or was it a mixture of both?   A death is known as a time for mourning, and a wedding a time of rejoicing. But what about this wedding ? I certainly didn’t feel any rejoiceful feelings; in fact mournful would be a more apt description of how I felt. And still feel. One would contrast the seven days of Aveilus to the 7 days of Sheva Brochos. I'm feeling them comparable. What I once believed to be chasms apart have now blurred to very fine lines; so fine that I am finding it hard to make the distinction.

Family focused on the couple walking the aisle – while strengthening their denial

An occasion that is Simcha making – has my heart breaking

And an opportunity

That should have relationships strengthened and resown – leaves me feeling alone, oh so alone.