“How did you like the Erev Shira production?”
“I didn’t go. I’m an avel this year.”
“Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot.”
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“How was the Purim seudah at your shul this year?”
“I didn’t go. I’m an avel.”
“Oh, yes! Forgive me, I didn’t remember.”
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“Can I sign you up for the melave malka? It’s going to be a lot of fun!”
“I can’t go. I’m an avel this year.”
“Oh my goodness, that’s right! I’m sorry.”
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“I’m selling the cutest skirts and hats, you should check them out!”
“I’m not buying new clothing this year, because I’m an avel.”
“Oh, so come and see me before the chagim. You’re allowed to buy new clothes for the holidays!”
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“Are you looking forward to the wedding?”
“I’m not sure not sure if I am going, I’m an avel”
“You can be a waiter and serve food! That’s what my friend did! Then it’s no problem!”
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The above comments and more have pretty much been my life for the last few months. Beyond the initial week of shiva, most people tend to forget the female avel (mourner). In fact, the only people to consistently remember that a woman is in mourning throughout the year is the woman herself, the person saying kaddish for her dearly departed on her behalf (assuming it’s a relative/friend and not a stranger paid to recite a random name off of a piece of paper), and her immediate family where her restrictions might affect them (such as her absence at a party).
Beyond people not remembering the female avel, others make sure to remind her that any halachos she is currently keeping are mainly minhagim easily erased through halachic loopholes. If necessity dictates, a woman can pretty much find a leniency out of most of the obligations of mourning past shloshim. Essentially, most of the few outward signs of mourning that a woman is obligated to perform can be “hetered away.”
However, after a major loss requiring a year of aveilus, many of us are not always up to taking advantage of the loopholes. While life goes on, and chagim and simchas continue, there is still a sadness that remains. Men have outward signs of grief and public acknowledgement that show respect for the loss they have suffered, even if they too have heters to wear new clothing or participate in simchas where their presence would be missed. The difference is, that their grief is consistently acknowledged in synagogue. Therefore, it is easier to feel that your personal tragedy isn’t being overlooked, even while spring is in the air, Purim is popping, babies are being born, and people are getting married.
I don’t think that women avelim are even aware of all the small kindnesses that male avelim are privy to. Some Facebook comments enlightened me to the world of the male avel in synagogue, even beyond the saying of the mourner’s kaddish. On a Friday night at shul during shiva, the congregation will offer words of nechama to a male mourner after kabbalas Shabbos. During the year, when a man davens from the amud, other men come up afterwards to express their condolences and wish the departed’s neshama an aliyah. Also, during the week, a minyan will stop and wait for a male mourner to put on his tefillin so that he doesn’t miss saying kaddish. In other instances, the gabbai of a shul will come up to a man a week or so before an upcoming yahrtzeit and arrange for him to get an aliyah, say the haftorah, or have some other honor in remembrance of the occasion. There is an acknowledgement of his loss.
Saying kaddish for the year is another way that many men connect to each other on a personal level. Often, men end up in an informal “mourner’s club,” as they seek out minyanim that fit around their daily schedule. After seeing the same faces every day, they get to know each other, even beyond the purpose of their common prayers. Men can commiserate over their mutual losses and the difficulty of life without their loved ones. They share stories about the trials and tribulations of finding a minyan to say kaddish during vacations or business trips. Their efforts and struggles bring them closer together. Many men say that the experience of saying kaddish is spiritually powerful. Some men, after years of nonobservance, find the experience of saying kaddish so meaningful that they are brought back to religion.
Nothing unites female mourners in the same way. In fact, unless a close friend or sister happens to be in mourning at the same time, we are often alone with our grief. Sometimes it’s an unfortunate surprise to find out that another woman from the community is an avel at the same time we are. Since there is no public acknowledgement past shloshim into the year of our loss, if we somehow missed the death announcement, there is no way for us to know (other than a haphazard mention from a mutual acquaintance) that a woman is an avel. The year of aveilus, for a woman, is a lonely one.
