The 7th anniversary of my dad’s death–a day my sister Marina and I commemorate with rare meats, vodka and affection. Here is a poem I wrote for this year’s Yom Kippur service:
My mother and father on the yahrzeit wall
You were skeptical
You were atheists
You couldn’t live together
You made new lives apart
Your houses had pianos and record players and books
You were beautiful
You were funny
One of you worried
The other one didn’t
You never really hated each other
25 years after your divorce
You sat in my kitchen together, telling stories
You got old, but not old enough,
And never too old to change
You thought and laughed and talked and cared
Right to the end
For both of you, the end was hard
For one of you it came too soon and you were scared
The other was not afraid to die, but found it inconvenient
And you were both noble and brave
And you loved me
Every day I think of something to tell you
–Robin Chotzinoff
