There are important individuals in our lives that touch us in moments. For me, Erel was one such unique individual.  The moments he touched me transformed my second half of life heroine’s journey.  At the age of 50, I immigrated to Israel as a clinical psychologist with a longing for newness born in deep meaning.  As a stranger in a strange land, Erel, himself a fellow immigrant from Sweden, took me under his wings and escorted me to a world of colleagues and mentors.  Because of him, I began training in Jungian psychotherapy in Hebrew (no easy task).  Erel was there for me at key junctions in the journey, as a supportive ear when I suddenly learned of the death of my former Jungian analyst in America, as encouragement to train as an analyst, as a guide to finding my excellent training analyst, and as a sounding board for my own writing.  I learned of Erel’s gift as a lecturer, teacher, writer, and analyst.  Erel told the story of someone who told him he would never be an analyst.

Yet the moments of meaning continued after Erel’s untimely passing from this life.  Erel’s funeral was one of the most spiritual and unusual funerals I ever attended.  In the midst of the deep suffering, Erel found strength to plan for his funeral with his family and soul-mate Nancy Furlotti.  His daughters recited and transformed traditional Jewish blessings of life to complete the cycle.  Erel recording his own message to be played.

But perhaps what touched me was a poem Nancy read, In Blackwater Woods” by Mary Oliver.  The poem opens beckoning with a beautiful image of life and hope.

Look, the trees are turning

their own bodies into pillars

of light.

are giving off the rich fragrance of

cinnamon and fulfillment…

This poem, one of Erel’s favorites, was chosen prior to his death.  Yet unknown at the time was the synchronicity.  Erel died on the Jewish holiday of Tubeshvat, the New Year of the Trees. Jewish tradition is rich with connection to trees, comparing humankind to trees of the field, blessing the first blossoms of fruit trees each year, and a Biblical commandment to protect fruit trees in times of war.  Nancy in her deep grief read the first piece of the poem and realized she had forgotten the second half at home. I was so touched that I pursued the last half.  The last few lines reached even deeper to frame the moment.

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.

Erel’s casket was accompanied to the grave with the refrain of the Beatles: “You say good-bye. I say hello.” Here the tears of hope and mourning flowed freely. Sometimes we must let go. Yet, the letting go and mourning bears the seeds of potential to take the gifts of relatedness deep inside our heart and soul. Erel left a rich legacy of teachings, writings, and of relationship to family, friends, colleagues, and analysands.