For my Dad.

This post isn't about being a Bad Jew. It's about how my dad died. Well. It's not about how he died but more so about that he did die. And about how I am. And about how it's Yom Kippur today.

Yom Kippur always makes me think of being a little kid, sitting next to my dad at synagogue, holding  the fringes of his prayer shawl in my small fingers while he stood and then sat back down for what felt like a billion times on an endless day. And that I didn't really get that this is holiday about forgiveness and reflection. But I've grown up into an adult person who does truly understand that this holiday is about forgiveness and reflection, and has opted out of the traditional synagogue trajectory of sitting and standing a billion times on an endless day and has instead embraced meditative hiking as a means of reflection. And my dad was always so confused and appalled every year by his oldest kid's choice to do this. And on my hike today, all I thought about was him.

Being my dad's kid wasn't easy for me. The package of being my dad's oldest daughter came filled with lots of baggage and subsequent therapy.

There was a lot of protecting myself and keeping my feelings from him. I spent so long trying to keep him out of my life because of the past; to keep him from really knowing me and who I've grown to be. Really putting him into an isolation that I felt, most of the time, he deserved. Which is kinda funny to me now because he's everywhere. I feel him in everything I do and every thought I have. And many of my loving friends and family, even as recently as two days ago, have asked me if I have regrets. To which I've told them, "No. I don't." But the more I reflect on this, the more I realize I was wrong. Or was at least doing a really awesome job of hiding that from myself.

So I guess yeah.

I have regrets. But not the way I've always experienced regret. It's not the kind of regret that's actionable in partnership with another person. I have to make amends with only myself; with him only in my heart and not physically here and able to accept my amends. And I feel capable of that.

As it turns out, I'm still working on my relationship with him. Even now that he's gone. I miss him, even though I never thought I would. And my work for this coming year will be to have compassion for my dad - and for myself - for not being perfect. And for somehow, unrealistically, expecting us both to be.

And it doesn't matter how he died. Or if he was sick, which he was. Or if it was sudden, which it was. What matters is that my siblings and I did right by him. We gave him a peaceful death and an honorable burial. Like any human being deserves. No matter what the landscape of our relationship looked like in the past. At least that's what matters to me.

So. How am I doing?  I'm pretty sure this isn't the right question to ask. Because here's what it's like, this losing a parent, at least for me. It's like sitting on the edge of the deep end of the pool. Everyday. All day. And some parts of the day are spent just dipping my toes in the water. To cool off a little because it's warm. And some parts of the day are spent fully submerged in the water because it's scorching hot. For hours. And I can't breathe.

And after spending so many hours at the pool I feel drained, and waterlogged, and sluggish. And I've had too much exposure. But not to the sun. To the rawness of my own feelings. And then I just need to be alone. Or to watch really bad tv. Or to have a drink. And sleep. Or try to. So I'm pretty sure the right question isn't, "How am I doing" but maybe the right question is, "What can be done, if anything, to help you breathe easier; to feel less burdened"?

So. That's how I am. I'm working on filling myself back up with all of the goodness that exists in the world. I'm giving myself space and time. I'm taking a lot of walks. I'm breathing a lot of fresh air. I'm learning to be patient with myself and how to experience life one moment at a time. Because that's never been easy for me. 

That's how I am.

Bad Jew with a Twist (preferably with some really good vodka)

So. Here we are again. And sure, it's almost three years later, and sure, you don't recognize me because my hair is shorter or different and I'm wearing a new shade of lip gloss you've never seen me wear before. And I don't recognize you either, probably because of the same reasons or because I've never seen you in that shirt and you have new glasses when you didn't even used to wear glasses. Or maybe we don't recognize each other because we've been out in the world doing our thing, fighting crime, trying to rid the world of the evils of social injustices through all of the various ways in which we each do that sort of thing.

That's where all of this started, right? As a space to bring to light that being part of The Tribe isn't always easy for us Bad Jews. Us bacon-eating, non-synagogue-going, Shabbat-ignoring, cheeseburger-inhaling and even atheist, Jews. Where being recognized as a "practicing Jew" means we're living and breathing Jewish values through the ways in which we treat others, our work in the nonprofit community and public school systems, the donating of our time and money to the things we believe most in, being awesome parents and teaching our nieces and nephews how broken the world is and we've got an obligation to help repair it. That's where this all began.

And hey. As it turns out, being a Bad Jew is getting a little easier; trending even. Expressing one's Jewishness through the act of community service, social activism, doing good in the world...this is seen in the same light as other forms of practicing non-traditional Judaism. Enter Embodied Jewish Learning through dance and yoga. Enter Jewish food justice and local sustainability through food conferences and urban farming. Enter Jewish mindfulness practices through meditation and chanting. These are just a few examples of what we Bad Jews are doing these days to practice whatever it is we feel most expresses our "Jewish."

And everyone is looking at us. And staring. And it's awesome.

So. You're probably thinking I'm feeling pretty ok about taking a three year break from writing. Look at all the expanded space that now exists for us Bad Jews since we last hung out. Sort of.

I'm thinking about other ways in which some of us are still struggling to the surface for air. Some of us still don't quite have a place, even with the recent acceptance of Jewish Bad-Assery into mainstream Jewish culture. Rather than share someone else's story, I'll just share mine: as a proud, single, childfree by choice, successful, soon-to-be 40-year old woman I find myself standing in front of a line-up of bubbes and yentas telling me "it's not too late, honey" and "your b'sheret, your soulmate, is out there" and "there's always adoption."

Now, here's the crazy, Bad Jew twist: what if I don't want those things? If marriage and kids aren't my thing; if the mixers and the speed dating and the singles' lox and bagels brunches are keeping me out of synagogues and such, just like Shabbat services and Torah readings do, then where do I go? And, moreover, do I want to go anywhere?

I'm sharing this with you because it's been on my mind, because, well duh, it's my story and I live it every day. And although I'm not sure where this is going to take me - or take us, I thought I'd share it with you because I think you may have something to say about this. And I trust you. And I know you may have your own version of this story. Maybe it's not about being a fabulous, single woman but maybe it's about something else that has you seeking space and a place.

I guess what I'm wondering is this: whether you think of yourself as a Bad Jew or not, what's keeping you outside of the Jewish community looking in?