AMONG THE SOUVENIRS (a poem for Max)
When you are only seventeen
The words: "till death do you part"
Seem abstract and meaningless
You ignore the real concept of it
Not even imagining how swiftly
Life will pass before your eyes
Even after fifty years together
Now for the first time ever
I must face the New Year alone
Remembering all the others
Spent first with my parents
And later with you
Although the years were not always
As we wished for
At least we 've had each other
Now I have to face life alone
Without your love, common sense and help.
You made so many things with your hands
All of them are still here
I see them every day,
They were made to make my life easier
Few of them still do
But most are useless to me now
Constantly surprising me
With their durability
While you are gone...
There are times when the memory of you
Seems to be beyond my reach
On those days I try very hard to remember
Not being sure about anything anymore.
Was it all created in my imagination?
Then, all of a sudden
Your smile, joke or saying, reminds me
That we were here together
Loving, laughing and trusting.
The fun would come often
Sometimes between tears
But always wholehearted.
No, I don't want to believe that life was wasted
Not for a minute
Even when some days
It all seems like a cruel joke.
I would not change a thing
Not even for a pot of gold.
And in the meantime I will remain here
Among the souvenirs.
June Friedman --- New Year 1998
Max of blessed memory and me in 1953, in Lod, Israel. We've been married for 6 years by then and this is our "wedding picture".
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Last updated September 14th, 2006