I stumbled upon this article at the Tablet: A New Read On Jewish Life, because it mentions one of my books. But I found the discussion fascinating.
Here is the direct link t the posting:http://www.tabletmag.com/life-and-religion/24799/falling-down/
I remember my first time learning that all will die some day, and my despair at trying to grasp the idea that everyone I loved, including myself, were in danger of dying some day. It was New Years; people were braking piñatas and toasting for good life, and I was scared. Non of my parents reassurances--that it will probably wouldn't happen for me in a long time--made me feel safer.
Years latter, when one of my favorite uncles died, I remember that my father struggled over my sisters and my questions of whether he could be sure that our beloved uncle was gone forever. I remember his answer: My uncle's body was still here but his soul had flown away. He was still here (which was the answer I wanted), but he wasn't (which broke my heart)? I was even more confused now! Is it perhaps that ambiguity allows room for false hopes(hope that hurts)?
Being a parent is a heroic job.