D'vora Richards
Eulogies for Rayna, starting with David's:
My mom had a secret drawer. In her heart. In it, she placed the parts of her life that moved her the most, the experiences that lifted her up when she most needed a boost. Like so many people, my mother often felt overcome by self-doubt. Like every one of us, she had her unique burdens and challenges throughout her life, and they could leave her feeling that she wasn’t good enough. Maybe as a parent, or a spouse, or in her religious life. Her anxiety over not living up to a standard she may never have fully consented to would strike her dumb. I grew up seeing her mouth moving in silent conversation with herself when her face betrayed these self-doubts. But Rayna found a way to pull herself out of these dark places, and I like to think it was the contents of this secret drawer that helped her persevere.
What did she hold onto that reassured her? Well, it wouldn’t be a “secret drawer” if I knew for sure. But I have some ideas. Rayna loved family perhaps above all else. She fought for her husband and her children when they needed a queen’s regal hand. She lavished praise on all family members she saw. She sent cards for all occasions, reaching out to the distant branches of our family tree. She prioritized travel for weddings and b’nai mitzvot. Family was Rayna’s bulwark. I guess that’s no secret. But some of the brightest memories of family must have been singled out and saved for when Rayna really needed them. Bright moments she knew she’d kept in this secret drawer.
Rayna loved music. All of her children remember her pulling out her cello and practicing—especially the Bach Suite No 1. Long after our mother set down her bow for the last time, her relationship with music must have been a special occupant of her heart’s secret drawer. Her enthusiasm for music—both making it and hearing it—was
contagious. It spread to our father: they would attend concerts throughout their marriage. And it spread to her children and grandchildren. The records our parents bought were my first glimpse into the world of modern symphonic works that sustains me to this day.
Rayna’s faith that right would always triumph over injustice was a living, vibrant thing. She was the most conspicuous righter of wrongs and builder of bridges I knew. This devotion to justice was a bright gem in Rayna’s secret drawer, sustaining her through years of confronting humanity’s darker nature whenever it intruded. And it did intrude in her life, even at a young age. I can speculate that justice was the first precious item she saved in her heart—or maybe that was love?
Is justice possible without love? Rayna might say that true justice—honest justice—requires we love not only the wronged, but the one who has wronged as well. This balance, this forgiveness, was perhaps the rarest item in Rayna’s secret drawer, a lesson so few of us incorporate in our hearts the way Rayna did.
All of these treasures sustained my mother through the many crises small and large that she faced during her 83 years. We lay her to rest today, but her heart and it’s secret drawer we will take away together. Secret strengths and inspirations we might never have realized were passed on to us, we now carry in our own secret drawers.
I have been asked also to read the ways my sisters remember our mother and her heart.
You will hear some themes repeated, yet having all three siblings’ stories will paint a richer picture for you. And so I will turn now to what my dear sister Deb asked me to read. My voice is now her voice.
