As the Yizkor progressed I realized that time had proved her to be correct. I lamented the loss of my mother, and felt sorry for my father who had lost his partner of 56 years. I realized that I did not feel as indomitable as I did in my teens. Yes, aging was frightening. I quickly calculated how many years had transpired from the time my mother was my age until the time of her death. I was somewhat comforted by the fact that I had many years until I would reach that point. This consolation was short-lived, however, when it immediately occurred to me that these years would also pass in the flash of an eye.
After my mother’s death, it was harder to deny that with each passing day I had less time left and that my end would eventually arrive just as it had for my mother and everyone else who has ever lived. Not exactly an uplifting Yom Tov thought.
As we walked home after the completion of the Yom Tov service, I continued to ruminate about Yizkor and the feelings it had evoked. I knew I was not unique in my emotional discomfort regarding the transient nature of human existence. Ernest Becker, a noted death researcher, wrote that the fear of death is ubiquitous and haunts us like nothing else. Consequently, in an effort to protect ourselves, we resort to all types of machinations to push the reality of our mortality from our minds.
In the long run, however, this defense mechanism does us more harm than good. As Irvin Yalom, a renowned psychotherapist wrote, “Although the physicality of death destroys us, the idea of death saves us.” In other words, the more we consider our mortality, the more we appreciate and value our lives.
As I considered this, I suddenly had an epiphany. I understood what the rabbis may have been trying to teach us when they designated the last day of Yom Tov as the time to say Yizkor. This prayer is said not only to remind us of our loved ones who have passed away but to also remind us that we too will die. When we reflect on our own mortality we become less concerned with the meaningless annoyances of life and place more value on that which is truly precious.
At that moment I asked myself, “ Will I spend the last day of Passover preoccupied with the hard work that awaits me after Yom Tov, or will I appreciate my time together with my father, wife, and children? Will I spend the day counting down the moments until the long Yom Tov is finally over and fantasize about the pleasure of the first post-Pesach piece of bread, or will I treasure each moment with my loved ones?”
I came to understand that Yizkor is a prayer that not only helps us remember our deceased relatives but also reminds us of the preciousness and precariousness of life. It is designed to strengthen our resolve to appreciate everything we have, while we have it.
On that last day of Yom Tov, after having been together with family and friends for an extended period of time, we are particularly susceptible to taking a loved one’s presence for granted. Yizkor is meant to remind us that our time is limited and of the supreme importance of savoring every moment Hashem grants us – especially the moments we are together with those we cherish and love.
“Teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom.” – Psalms 90:12