Life is Fragile, Love Endures: A Message for the High Holidays
One year ago, my sister, Beth, passed away and joined my mother and grandparents to live on in our memories - like the one represented in this photograph, taken many years ago at my college graduation.
Grief has a way of distorting time—it can feel as if the days since her passing have both crawled and flown, as if she has been gone forever and yet just left the room. More than anything, this past year has taught me the importance of slowing down, of making space for memory, and of cherishing the fleeting, irreplaceable moments we have with each other.
We live in a culture that celebrates busyness. Productivity often feels like the measure of our worth. But loss reminds us, sharply and without compromise, that what endures are not the endless to-do lists or the hurried accomplishments but the conversations around the dinner table, the laughter that lifts our spirits, the presence of someone who knows us fully and still stays close. My sister was one of those people for me. Her absence is a constant reminder that these moments are finite—and therefore infinitely precious.
This lesson feels especially resonant as we enter the season of the Jewish High Holidays. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are not simply holidays of ritual; they are annual invitations to pause, reflect, and realign. Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, celebrates the creation of the world, urging us to look at life with fresh eyes, to consider the gift of being here now. Yom Kippur, just days later, asks us to reckon with our lives honestly, to seek forgiveness, and to return to what truly matters. Together, they form a sacred rhythm of slowing down and turning inward, of appreciating both the fragility and the possibility of our lives.
During this season, we often recite the Unetaneh Tokef prayer, which reminds us that life is uncertain, that none of us knows what the year ahead will bring. While the prayer can sound somber, its deeper purpose is not to frighten us, but to awaken us. It tells us, in essence: life is delicate, so live it with care and intention. Cherish it. Make the time you have matter.
This year, as I still carry the weight of my sister’s passing, those words land differently. They are not abstract anymore; they are real. They remind me that grief is not only about loss—it is also about love. To grieve deeply is to have loved deeply. And to honor that love, I try each day to slow down: to put away my phone when I’m with a friend, to savor the changing light in the evening, to say “I appreciate you” more often. These are small acts, but together they are how I keep her presence alive in my life.
As the shofar sounds on Rosh Hashanah, calling us to awaken, I hear it as a call to attention: Pay attention to your life. Pay attention to the people you love. Pay attention to the fleeting moments that, when woven together, make a life worth remembering. And as Yom Kippur invites us into reflection and forgiveness, I hear in it also an invitation to let go of what does not matter, to release the grudges and anxieties that consume us, to create more room for love, and, of course, to break bread with one another.
My sister’s memory blesses me with that perspective every day. The High Holidays remind me to live it out. May this season be a time for all of us to pause, to slow down, and to treasure the moments we still have with each other. Because in the end, those moments are everything.