"Remembering Makes Me Whole"

       It may have taken my maturer years and the death of my parents to appreciate the value of the Yizkor (memorial) service on Yom Kippur Day.  One year I was asked to write about "What Memory Means to Me" and to read it during that service.

       A dad who had died at 96 and a mom at 101 left me with much to remember and savor for its contribution to my own nature and life course.  This naturally brings tears to my eyes...knowing that could be maudlin and indulgent...yet my reflections before the audience ended this way:

                  Remembering to me is not self-indulgence in emotion;                 remembering  acknowledges the limits of my self and how much
             has fed into me to make me what I am.

                  In other words, remembering makes me whole.