Yom Kippur is a biggie in the Jewish religion, the holiest day of the year. It’s a day of atonement, reflection and remembrance. Observant people fast and spend most of the day in temple.
ELBEE Notice she said “observant.”
I guess I’m kind of a Yom Kippur rebel. In the past, along 
with Donna, my fellow rebel, I have been known to break some of the rules. On two or three occasions, we took the dogs into the hospital on the holiday. We figured the good works that they were doing made up for any of our non-observance.
This year COVID-19 let me off the hook. I wasn’t going to sit in a crowded service, inside or out. My cousin emailed me a link to on-line services in Florida but with my ADD, sitting and watching the computer was not going to happen.
ELBEE There are so many things wrong with that paragraph. Someone is going to have a lot of atoning to do.
Instead, early in the morning, I hiked up into the mountains.
ELBEE I’m not sure if that’s kosher.
Sitting on one of my favorite overlooks with a view of the ocean in the distance, I felt a true sense of spiritual connection. The morning was unusually quiet, there were no other people around. The little birds who have been very vocal lately, were still. Two large hawks soared silently overhead.
As I sat there, remembrance washed over me. This year with so many deaths from the virus, it was especially poignant.
Of all the treasured people in my life whom I’ve lost, including my parents, dear friends and relatives, two are always an integral part of the holiday…my brother Stan and my friend Eileen.
They both brought love, laughter and kindness to my life. Although, they’ve each been gone many years and were way too young when they passed, not a day goes by that I don’t feel their presence
Since their ashes are in the ocean, Eileen’s kids and I have made it a holiday tradition to place flowers in the sand for them. Yizkor is a remembrance service on Yom Kippur, a prayer for the deceased. This is our way of saying Yizkor.
Her boys Mark and Gary and I headed to our special beach. 
Her daughter Lisa was with her family, but joined us in spirit on our annual “pilgrimage.” We walked down the sand and found a place to sit on the rocks.
We talked softly, shared memories and stood flowers in the sand as the waves broke on the shore. Our sense of connection with each other and with Stan and Eileen was, as Mark said, “magical.”
I don’t think there is a better way to celebrate Yom Kippur than opening our hearts with unconditional love for those who are gone and for those who are a cherished part of our lives today.
When I got home in the evening, I lit candles of remembrance. Gus and Stanley, sensing my emotions, sat by my side.
