Because my mother died the night before Passover, that first seder at my home a day later felt unbearable.

I was shell-shocked from both her loss and from the months of intense caregiving.

The traditions and rituals continued, but for the empty chair at my dining room table where my mother always sat.  As always, the seder concluded with my yeshiva-trained husband Hersh singing in pitch-perfect Hebrew the closing song “Chad Gadya.”

It is a cumulative song where each stanza adds a new element, accelerating in tension, destruction, and length.  ( a cat eats the goat, a dog bites the cat, a stick hits the dog, etc.) The frenetic rhythm echoed the daily escalating frenzy I had just experienced in the past several weeks, caring for my declining mother in the hospital.

After the seder, that song’s frantic rhythm played over in my head.

The recitation of the chain reaction of destruction felt so familiar. I quickly wrote down my own rendition, a recounting of the acceleration of the chaos that caring for my mother at the end had become.

The despair that despite all my efforts, I could not save her.

Chad Gadya…..Where Did It Get Me

I took the notes I surfed the web I made the calls I caught the mistakes I checked the charts I ran the halls I asked the questions I heard the lies I demanded the truth I didn’t take no I wouldn’t take slow, I pushed the probes and probed the pushes I watched the inputs I noted the outputs, covers on covers off, temperature up, temperature down, mood sweet mood dark white cells high red cells low, hello goodbye, hello goodbye, erythromycin, azithromycin, streptomycin, tortured screams, anguished screams, you scream I scream we all scream for ice cream, I called for the nurses, alerted the aides, demanded the doctors, pleaded for help and where did it get me…where did it get me…

Chad Gadya…

I killed the bugs, I called the cops, I swatted the flies, I chased the pigs, I built the fences, installed the alarms, I planted the corn, I counted the cans, I stacked the boxes, I hung the signs, I sang the songs, I spotted the imposters, I hunted the fakers, I collected the junk, I banished the others, I called for the nurses, alerted the aides, demanded the doctors, pleaded for help and where did it get me…where did it get me…

Chad Gadya….

I waited for cabs I ran for the trains I stood in the rain I shivered in cold I couldn’t speak, I wouldn’t eat I cheered her on I helped her walk I held my fears and hid my tears, I spoke for her and heard for her, I calmed her screams I held her fears I soothed her terrors and banished my own, I worried for her I trembled for her, I mopped her brow I moistened her lips, I fed her chips I blew her nose I tickled her toes I watched her sleep,  I watched her breath I watched her laugh, I kissed her cheeks and rubbed her feet I scratched her head and stroked her face I held her hands and held her gaze I looked in her eyes and said it was okay I promised to protect her, I vowed to protect her, I got her to smile, I called for the nurses, alerted the aides, demanded the doctors, pleaded for help and where did it get me…where did it get me…

Note:

In the last few weeks in the hospital, my mother’s mind deteriorated along with her frail body,  but I was happy to go wherever her mind took her.

When she feared a gang of gypsies hovering around the nurses’ station at night was plotting to kidnap her, I enlisted the help of Hersh, who came with his pretend tools and installed a pretend alarm system, reassuring her. I quickly called the police to pick up these rogue gypsies, and when I ran to the window, hearing a pretend siren,s I  let her know they had been rounded up and were now in handcuffs.  A visible relief on her face made it all worth it.

When she wanted to plant corn, I willingly “hoed” the ground in her hospital room and planted the seeds and it wasn’t long before the corn was as high as an elephant’s eye. If rogue pigs were running around her room, or a swarm of flies I chased them all away.

I did all I could, but it wasn’t enough