So one year ago, in a moment that still devastates me, I lost the chair and Jewish star pendant I’d worn since age 12.
The mishap happened at the beach, and left me crushed beyond crushed. That star was with me for my Bar Mitzvah, for high school and college graduation, for marriage and funerals and the arrivals of my two kids. It was always there, and I cherished it.
Then—because I suck—I lost it. (I wrote a blog post about this at the time)
Anyhow, I moved on, but never got over it. And a few months ago, for father’s day, my mom sent me a chain with a Chai. But I don’t really love Chais. They’re big and pointy and sorta uncomfortable dangles. I wanted a Jewish star like the one I had.
Now, I have one.
It’s a quirky replacement. Silver, a bit smaller than the original. It’s also covered in pink beads, and was a long-ago gift for my daughter from a relative who’s no longer a relative. I don’t love it in the way I love the original, but I dig that it’s a star, that it’s small and that it makes me think of my daughter Casey.