This evening begins the 32nd day of the Omer, Lev B’Omer - לב בעומר. Each evening, we add another to the count of the Omer, culminating in the 49th day and the celebration of the giving of the Torah on Shavuot. Each day the total count of the Omer increases just like how each night of Chanukah we add one more candle to the Chanukiyah. Rabbis Hillel and Shammai debated how to count the days correctly. Hillel taught that we start at one and count up to eight; whereas Shammai taught that we should start at eight and count down from there. Our practice is according to Hillel’s teaching. According to him, “Maalin bakodesh, vein moridin” - holiness should only increase and not decrease. And so, it is with our walk from liberation to revelation, from our movement out of the narrows towards a deeper relationship with the Divine: we go up.

It is interesting that this counting up is happening while we spend the first 32 days of the counting of the Omer in semi-mourning. The mourning is in memory of thousands of Rabbi Akiva’s students, who died, perhaps as punishment for not honouring one another properly or in the Bar Kochba revolt. It has become a custom in Ashkenazi communities and some Sephardi communities to keep some mourning rituals during this period, such as not listening to music, not shaving, and not having weddings or parties. The 33rd day - Lag B’Omer -ל״ג בעומר , is believed to be a day when the plague on Rabbi Akiva’s students ceased. On this day, there is a pause to the mourning, a respite from grief, a day when many people choose to get married and have parties. After Lag Ba’Omer, we return to mourning.

Grief doesn’t happen in a straight line, as we can see in this mourning ritual during the counting of the Omer. It has definitely been my experience throughout this year of aveilut - of mourning my dad.

This year, as my birthday approached, I noticed that for the first time in a long time, I felt the possibility of doing something celebratory, which was really good news. When I mentioned this to a friend, after sharing in my delight, she reminded me that grief is not a straight line. This reminder has helped me in many moments since.

When my dad died, I initially counted up. Each day, I wrote the number in my grief journal called “Tales of Aveilut”, counting up as I walked through the darkness of the first stages of grief…day 30… day 94…day 180. Leading up to the last Kaddish, I started counting down. At the beginning of this first year of aveilut, I could not imagine the end of the year and then as I could see the end of the year drawing near, I began to count down.

Tonight, and tomorrow, on the 32nd day of the Omer - Lev B’Omer - I will mark the first Yahrzeit of my father’s death. Lev means heart in Hebrew, and it seems fitting that he died on “heart’” day. He was a person with a huge, vital heart. He had an impact on this world, with his empathy, ingenuity, creativity and with the care he offered to so many. My dad’s tombstone will read, “Healer of the Brokenhearted, Binder of their (our) wounds.”

I want to take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you for the kindness you have shared with me throughout this time. I felt it and appreciated your care. My dad would have been so pleased to have witnessed this thoughtfulness. I hope that you will feel free to reach out for this same kind of presence and care when you are in a time of need.

Avinoam ben Tziyon^z”l. His life and his memory is most certainly a blessing.

Shabbat Shalom