It is good, we are told, to see this day as possibly your last
It is good, we are told, for it stimulates repentance
But what if
As I do today
Really feel
That this day
Is my last?

The terror overcomes at first
Then the unbelievable sadness and grief
Imagining as I do
How Malka must feel right now
When the doctor returns with the imaging report
The belly
The mass in the pancreas
The terror, the realization, three months left
The end is near.

My last day?
Impossible to describe
The pit of the stomach, a gray round mercury ball filling it Hard shiny surface, impenetrable and reflective Disallowing anything to penetrate.

The last day, Like some platoon of soldiers ordered to stand fast knowing well
That the odds are overwhelming
The possibility of survival slim at best
No way out
Under orders.
They write home, each one in another corner of the dug out.
A strange quiet pervades the group
Realization of the inevitability of life and death
And the imminence of what is near at hand
Time cramps up-it accelerates
And memories flash past too quickly, but then one is
Not allowed the luxury to stay awhile, to linger on a particular feeling.
Not allowed to bask in the glow and warmth of such sentiments...

Ah, the soldier reminisces, that first kiss, messy but of another world, the first dance, feeling he thighs rub slowly to the music on me, to be drowning in that love and tenderness.

Nana's dining room table laden with curries and yellow rice with almonds and raisins atop…stuff I never got at home, the aroma wafting down the street as I approached running as a child famished with hunger, only to be met by Dada in the doorway, cod liver oil in a spoon on an outstretched hand.

Our journeys to Europe the car laden with supplies an adventure with Dad at the helm, the summers after school with Mum by the public pool, or the trips to Harrods, then the mind fast forwards to the arrival of my first child on the way home form the hospital playing him Mozart's 21^st piano concerto in C the slow movement, as if my transmission of culture and ideas had to begin immediately and never stopped. His creativity and ability to talk to one and all.

The twins, their ultrasound and dancing in the hallway of the hospital grabbing the cleaning man and hugging him, Tsiona's V on the trampoline, such perfection in movement and body control, Ayelet's birth and naming by Rav Soloveitchik and her love of horses. Tsiona's V- shaped jumps on the trampoline at Eli's barmitzvah on the front lawn in Boston and her perfection in spirituality now, her strength and non-intellectual insights into others, seeply psychological analysis. Ayelet's love of horses and show jumping with such pride, Aliza's sharp mind and loving, in my old age, Naftali's deep sense of the tragedy of it all, inheriting this sense allowing me to rest knowing my son will carry on this message, Batya's incredible intuitive sense of people and fierce intellect, admired by all.

My wife who supported me through the hard times and the embarrassments of my life, who stood there despite my lies and betrayals to love and care unconditionality...

And the first snowfall and brilliant blue sky, the green leaves of summer and golden leaves of fall, the aroma of spring and the rolling countryside of England gentle and welcoming, the music of the spheres, the Beethoven and Bach the glory of the sublime, the words of the Rebbe that connect, the utter fullness of all life has to offer...

To this I must now be able to say farewell
To this I must be able to surrender
I must relinquish
For it is not mine
Nor of me
I can only touch it and bless it and leave it for the next
To move on
To allow others to witness and taste of the Garden of Eden like I did
To be able to say thank you
And goodbye
To be able to let go
To leave
And be grateful
Without regrets nor tears
To swallow sentiment
And pray for the memories to stay forever
To join others who have left already and are waiting
For me lovingly
Nana and Dada and all my loved ancestors who watched me born and now to arrive on the other side.

This is what is being asked of us each day
To be in that space
To be able to let it all go.
And in kriat sh'ma to be able to leave it behind immediately
For the Other, the Creator who makes and takes
Who gives and demands
Who allows us in to this amazing crazy thing called life
Then asks us to relinquish it sometimes slowly sometimes quickly in a flash
And sometimes with a mass in the belly
Just enough time to do the unfinished business and make amends and tie up strings
And say the goodbyes slowly
To prepare for the next journey
In joining the ancestors.