By Anne Whitehouse
My parents were rarely on the same wavelength.
Most of the time they talked at each other,
not to each other. But here they are,
by a quirk of the Hebrew calendar,
yoked forever and forever,
until the end of time,
sharing the same Yahrzeit,
although one died in February
and the other in March,
two years apart.
Every year I pray for them together
and speak their names together,
before my congregation.
Copyright Whitehouse 2022