Today is Yom Kippur: The Day of Atonement. Its a day where Jewish people reflect on their missteps from the year previous, and commit themselves to being better in the coming year. Its not a sad day, but rather meant to revel and recognize in the amazingness that life has to offer if you live it as your best self. Its a day where we fast, not to punish, but so that our thoughts and minds can focus on thought and prayer, and not on food.
In Judaism, only you can judge your behaviour, and you report only to those who’s lives your actions affect, as well as to G-d (or another higher power, wherever your belief system takes you).
One part of the Yom Kippur observance is participating in a Yizkor service. In the prayers of Yizkor, we ask G-d to remember and look over the ones we have lost. We light a Yahrzeit candle in honour of them, which is to burn for the full 26 hours (from the first rays of the sun going down, to the last rays of the sundown the next day.
Yizkor Candle
This is the first time that I lit a Yahrzeit candle for my father. It was another milestone in this first year without him. I didn’t think it would bother me. But it did. Most terribly. There is a big knot in my throat, that no amount of baking, fasting, or sleeping can dissolve.
Just like his life ended far too soon, the Yahrzeit candle burned out after only 18 hours.
Tomorrow, I will move past what I’ve lost, and give thanks for what I had yesterday, for what I have right now, and for what I will have tomorrow. But, today, I miss my Dad.
Missing you is like empty Your name on my lips I see your face in my mind, but its not you Its fading; no longer real I don’t feel your strength Hear your voice, see you smile as you say my name Missing you is like empty Your words in my ears, guiding, cajoling, laughing, praising I feel your hand on mine, but its not really there, disappears Memories, photos, this candle I light They’re not you You’re not in there They just make Missing you like empty
beniceorleavedotcom.wordpress.com 
Sharon
/ October 8, 2011I’m so sorry Mara. Regular days are hard, special days are even harder. Sending you big hugs.
chickymara
/ October 8, 2011Thanks Sharon. I almost didn’t put that up, it’s so personal. But it somehow makes me feel better.
wratwrds
/ October 11, 2011Lovely sad post. Please remember he is there, right within you.
Hugs.
elka
/ February 23, 2012I found your blog here–and this entry in particular–because I was feeling similarly. Two nights ago we lit a yartzeit candle for our son who we lost during childbirth one year ago. His candle lasted more that 26 hours, but now that it is out I am left with emptiness. Your poem is beautiful. The flame is a reminder, but not a substitute. We who have lost our so very dear ones continue and learn to live this life without them here. Their memories and essence are with us, but there is an emptiness that I do not know if ever can be filled.
chickymara
/ February 23, 2012Elka,
I got shivers reading your comment-This is why I blog. I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m glad I was able to provide you with a measure of comfort when you read the poem. I cannot begin to imagine what you’ve gone through losing your son. Please come back and read again. Usually there’s more humour and maybe it will put a smile on your face once in a while.