Death Came Through My Window

Introduction

As we enter this period of national mourning, I feel moved to share a more personal mourning that also takes place during these days. Last year, my father z''l passed away on the 6th of Av, and his first yahrzeit is fast approaching. For my family, this week on the Jewish calendar has long been marked by grief, as my sister a''h died under tragic circumstances on the 3rd of Av many years ago.

In this series of three posts, I will reflect on themes relating to mourning and loss, beginning with the eulogy I delivered at my father's funeral.

Death Came Through My Window

Twenty-one years ago, almost to the day, I stood in this very place, at this same funeral home, to speak some words at my sister’s funeral. I remember how people said then that it was unnatural, for a parent to bury their own child. It was an upside-down world. Now I find myself standing here again, this time as a son burying his father. They say this is the natural order of things, the way things are supposed to be. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels just as disorienting, just as wrong, just as upside down. Growing up, I have vivid memories of deaths in the family, my great grandmother, grandfather, great uncles and uncles. In every case, it was always my father who took charge of the final arrangements. He was the one who made the calls to the Chevra Kadisha, to the funeral home and the Kehilla to arrange for the funeral and burial. And now, we the children find ourselves making these arrangements, and it feels so unnatural and upside down.

The Haftarah and the Window

The prophet Jeremiah, in the Haftarah we read this week says:
כִּי־עָ֤לָֽה מָ֙וֶת֙ בְּחַלּוֹנֵ֔ינוּ בָּ֖א בְּאַרְמְנוֹתֵ֑ינוּ לְהַכְרִ֤ית עוֹלָל֙ מִח֔וּץ בַּחוּרִ֖ים מֵרְחֹבֽוֹת׃
“For death has climbed through our windows,
has entered our fortresses,
to cut off babes from the streets,
young men from the squares.” (Jeremiah 9:20)

There are two classical interpretations of what is meant by death entering through a window that seem to have opposite sentiments.

According to Radak, a window symbolizes suddenness and surprise, death entered through the windows while the people inside felt safe and secure in their walled palaces, unaware that the end is near, yet death arrived as a surprise visitor, sneaking in through the windows. But according to Metzudat David, the image is different: they knew it was coming. They barred the doors, sealed the entrances, did everything in their power to delay it. But death still arrived, slipping through the cracks. Ultimately, despite all the efforts, death still found a way in.

Both interpretations appear to be true in our case. Our father was diagnosed 4 years ago. At first, we thought we might beat the disease, we tried the standard of care, but the disease found a way though. We moved on to harsher treatments, and still, the disease found a way through. We moved on to clinical trials where we saw some improvement and hope, but again, the disease found a way through. But through all this maneuvering and battling, the end still seemed so quick, so sudden, so unexpected, as if through a window. We weren’t ready, and he wasn’t ready. He so wanted to still live.

A New Interpretation: The Watching Window

Perhaps we can add a different interpretation to what death entering through a window symbolizes. It seems to me that a window symbolizes someone observing you from the outside, making sure you're okay.

In Shir HaShirim, the Song of Songs, the beloved is described as standing behind the wall, “observing through the windows, peering through the cracks.”

And in the Talmud, in Sotah 36b, quoted in Rashi (Genesis 39:11):
״וַתִּתְפְּשֵׂהוּ בְּבִגְדוֹ לֵאמֹר וְגוֹ׳״,
בְּאוֹתָהּ שָׁעָה בָּאתָה דְּיוֹקְנוֹ שֶׁל אָבִיו וְנִרְאֲתָה לוֹ בַּחַלּוֹן,
אָמַר לוֹ יוֹסֵף! עֲתִידִין אַחֶיךָ שֶׁיִּכָּתְבוּ עַל אַבְנֵי אֵפוֹד וְאַתָּה בֵּינֵיהֶם

Joseph sees the image of his father 'in the window', and that protects him from spiritual ruin.

The Father Figure as Window

A window represents a father figure, someone who looks out for you, even when you're a grown adult, married for many years in your own home, with your own family. That father figure continues to be there, as someone who is there to make sure that you're ok, that your family is okay. Whether you need any assistance, whether financially or otherwise. Observing through the window, peeking through the cracks. This is what the verse means, when death comes to the window, to the father figure, it cuts down the youth from the outside. That is, those who are already outside the home retain a sense of youthfulness so long as their parent remains alive. But once that parent figure is gone, the child's youth dies along with it. Now, one stands alone in full adulthood. One can be married and 'out on the street' but as long as one has a parent, they are in a sense still like a 'bachur'. The prophet refers to a bachur who is already out of the home and is only in a 'teen-like' state because he still has a parent. When the parent is gone, that youthfulness is lost.

My Father Was My Window

For me, death came not only 'through' the window, but death came 'for' my window. For my father figure who looked out for me even though I was already in my own home for 2 decades.

This image of a father figure is what defined who he was as a person. I recall, during my childhood, whenever he would give someone a ride home from shul, he always insisted on driving them to their door, never dropping them off at the corner. “When you do a good deed, it should be complete", he would say. Not only that, but he would wait in the car, looking through the window until he made sure the person was inside the door of his home.

He watched through the window.

The Strength of a Lion

My father was a quiet and unassuming man, but he possessed the strength of a lion. No matter what happened in his life, he marched on and ‘did what he had to do’. Through the pain of losing a child, through his illness, he always forced himself to march on.

Even in his final days, when confusion began to cloud his words, there were moments of clarity. At one point he became agitated, and I couldn’t understand what he was trying to say — until I finally made out the words: Men darf davenen! We need to do the daily prayers!

I brought his tefillin, and we prayed together. That was the last time I heard him speak.

He passed in the month of Av, because we lost an Av, a father. He passed away in the month that carries the sign of Leo, because we lost a lion.

A Loving and Holy Passing

Our father merited to pass away in manner most people do not attain. He was surrounded by family with so much love. With the sounds of the Shabbos davening and song and prayer. May we all merit to experience the true meaning of the words in Shir Hashirim, that the Almighty should watch over us from the windows and shine His light through our cracks and bring us to our final redemption. Amen.