Kol Haneshama

We gathered to say goodbye to Zelda yesterday.  Her body had been flown from Chicago to Detroit the previous night, accompanied by a “shomer” because the body is supposed to be watched from the time of death through the burial.

Zelda seemed beautiful and peaceful.  Her skin looked like the skin of a person half her age.  Someone joked that it was because she hadn’t spent a fortune on it over the years.

Three relatives spoke, including my husband, all portraying the strength, determination, and love of learning that so characterized Zelda.  The rabbi then made some very appropriate remarks.

No one mentioned the fact that Zelda had pretty much adopted Estelle, a resident of the Self-Help Home who could no longer speak.  I’m sure Estelle, who may live on for a decade or so, must miss her terribly.

Even though everyone spoke of her love of music, there had been no music at her funeral.  So as we drove from the funeral home to the cemetery, I came up with the idea of singing part of Psalm 150 as her body was lowered into the grave.

As we gathered at the gravesite, snow began to fall in earnest.  The rabbi read the prescribed prayers.  We lead the group in singing the final two lines of the final psalm, which translate as “Let everything that hath breath (Kol Haneshema) praise the Lord!  Praise ye the Lord!”  It seemed fitting as a final song dedicated to Zelda.