The Death of a Friend; the Life of a Friendship
“I was profoundly relieved to know that our last communication was a commitment to see one another. It was proof of what I had learned from Laurie: Prioritize the beautiful people in your life.”
By Rabbi Mari Chernow
One hour before my flight departed to Tel Aviv, I was sitting at a food court table. The phone rang and I saw that it was John Franken, a friend of mine from rabbinical school. Though we are close, John and I rarely speak by phone. So when I saw his name, a pit immediately formed in my stomach.
“Mari, are you sitting down? I have some really difficult news.”
I knew that this call would come eventually. I did not think it would come so soon. He continued: “It’s Laurie.”
My mind raced… I’ll cancel my trip. When will the funeral be? I’ll go to New York instead. Or stay in L.A. I’ll wait to hear. Or go. I can always come back. She loved Israel so much. I’ll stay. I’ll go. I’ll stay. I’ll go…
I boarded the plane, and throughout my time in Israel, two rivers of grief flowed right into one.
Israeli society was still in utter shock. As one friend explained, “Everyone tasted death on October 7th.”
At the same time, I saw a great many people in Israel who had known and loved Laurie. In the midst of their volunteering, building pop-up schools, distributing supplies, and burying their own dead, so many Israeli friends and teachers had room to mourn Laurie. They missed her too.
For years, I regretted that I did not travel to visit Laurie during a difficult time in her life. She had shown up so very many times for me — for all of the baby namings, major events at the synagogue, and more. Several years ago, I apologized to my friend. To this day, I don’t know whether or not she was hurt that I hadn’t shown up. By the time we talked about it, it was ancient history for her. She gracefully let me apologize, more for my sake than hers it seemed, and we moved on without skipping a beat.
And so, when she was diagnosed with a particularly rare and awful type of cancer, sarcoma, I decided not to make the same mistake again. People looked at me sideways when I made plans for short trips to New York or Miami to see her. They figured that she was actively dying, and that I was going to sit by her bedside for her last few hours. “Oh no,” I explained. “We took the kids to the slime museum and Coney Island.” Or: “We swam every day and went kayaking!”
The Jewish tradition teaches that our stories do not end with mistakes we have made. In fact, they can be our most transformative teachers. That’s why we do teshuva every year (or every day!). The purpose is not to generate shame or guilt. The purpose is growth and a better future.
A few minutes after I hung up with John, it was time to board. I took my phone out again to see my last text exchange with Laurie, confirming my next visit:
“How does Jan. 23-27 sound?”
“Works for me!!!! Miami, right????”
“Yes!”
I was profoundly relieved to know that our last communication was a commitment to see one another. It was proof of what I had learned from Laurie: Prioritize the beautiful people in your life (and all of the people in your life are beautiful!). In friendship, there is no need to keep score or keep track of who called last. Love generously. Forgive easily. And always, always, always: be kind.
Mari Chernow is the Senior Rabbi at Temple Israel of Hollywood and a Senior Rabbinic Fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute.
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