Frum N' Flipping

I don't think I'd be able to write this now, even if I tried. I found some scraps of paper, which I wrote during Shnat Avel, and put them all together. And sorry about this sad streak of posts. Someone asked me for an essay about mourning, by special request. The Day He dies. Death. You think it's the worst thing that can possibly be, the end, to everything. It's not real. It's a dream, a nightmare. You're sure you'll wake up soon. You are numb. The Week Slowly you feel again. You thought mourning was sadness, you weren't expecting the pain. You feel pain, you live pain. All of your being is pain. There is no escape. You can't shut it out, you can't let it out. You don't cry, because if you start to cry, you'll never stop. No rainfall of tears will ever be enough. The Month It hurts to see the sun shine, to hear people laugh at a joke. All you can manage is a wan smile. Everything seems unimportant, trivial. Daily life pales...

"Raise your hands if it's a challenge for you to look your husband in the eyes." I almost raise mine. It's sure a challenge for me. I've looked hundreds of men in the eyes. Deeply, soulfully, admiringly. I've even resorted to fluttering my eyelashes at them. But I'm yet to look my husband in the eyes. I wonder what color eyes he has, and when I'll get to see them. Oh, that's not what she means. She's talking about relationships with our husbands, about Shalom Bayis. I guess that's what this Shiur is going to be about. A warning would have been nice. I was looking for some uplifting spirituality, not a reminder of how lacking I am on my own. I hope my mother, sitting next to me, is not upset. I hope she's not thinking of how much she'd give to look into her husband's eyes. An opportunity she's not had since he died. I wonder how many other widows, divorcees there are in the room. I catch the eye of a single woman in her fift...

When my father died, I thought I was covered for life. I'd paid my dues. One hardship per person, doesn't it work like that? "You'll see that from now on life will go smoothly for you", said one illustrious Rebbetzin. "God is the father of Yesomim." The other rabbis said. "You'll have special Siyata Dishmaya in all you do." When my years of dating don't bring me where I want them to, I can't figure it out. Making aliyah, tick. Losing father, tick. Older single stuck in the "shidduch crises", surely that can't be meant for me too? I resign myself to my not-yet-perfect life. I just need to get married. One more trial to get through, and I'm home free. Then life will be perfect. Happily ever after. Sure, I'll have to deal with Parnassah, and Shalom Bayis, and Chinuch Banim. But that's OK. That's life. I can't wait. Around me, my friends and peers marry. Ecstatic weddings followed by marital bliss. They...